


A Christmas Love

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Themed, F/M, Smut, although obviously hayffie spiced, loosely based on "the holiday" movie, side pairing everlark, side pairing odesta, your typical christmas rom-com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: With a career quickly going down the drain and an overbearing mother to avoid at all cost, movie star Effie Trinket decides to go away for the holidays. On a whim, she embarks in a house swapping program that brings her to The Seam, Virginia. Little does she know that she will find more than she bargained for in that mining town... Or that a strange man who comes knocking at her door at an ungodly hour of the night, unaware that she isn't the actual owner, is about to change her life...





	1. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, welcome, to this year Christmas story! I just love that! 
> 
> Effie impersonation aside, this story (on which I bleeeeed to have ready on time) is loosely inspired on “The Holidays” movie. I insist on the loosely because I only took the original concept of house swapping and one night stands, the rest comes straight out of my little brain so don’t expect it to follow the movie plot too closely. 
> 
> A few warnings are necessary: there will be smut a-plenty. My gift, from me to you, bad smut for Christmas, what could be better? (anything, you say). The title and the chapters’ titles all come from Christmas songs (which is very original and has never been done before but hey, it’s Christmas, we have to go with tradition). 
> 
> Ah, and it is a modern AU. There are 7 chapters in all, I will post one a day, which will bring us to the 25th… 
> 
> Another year gone and I feel that I must really say I love my hayffie fandom very much, even if some of you hate me and would love to see me gone (but the hate anons on tumblr mostly makes me laugh so it’s ok). I made a lot of friends in this fandom and I’m grateful for each and every one of you. Thank you for your support this year and thank you for always being awesome about our awesome ship. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy your Christmas smut feast, my dears.

_“I wish you hadn’t gone to the other end of the country, Effie… You are always welcome to stay with us, you know that…”_

Effie sighed, trailing her hand on the fireplace’s mantle as she walked around the small living-room, taking in details she hadn’t noticed during her first tour of the house. Like the collection of china doll bird miniatures.

“I know, Portia, thank you.” she offered. “I really needed a change in scenery.”

An acting career was never easy, she knew that better than most, it was an arena in its own right and you either survived or ended with the flock in the background of a B movie. For a while, in her twenties, Effie had been _it._ The girl on every poster, the girl you needed in front of your camera if you wanted to guarantee a success, the girl people wanted to see, to meet, to touch… _A dream_. She had been a dream.

It had lasted a good total of five years before someone else had taken her place, leaving her to scamper after roles and a tarnished glory, fending made-up scandals in the press, courting fans that got less and less numerous as the years trickled by…

At thirty-five, Effie was only offered second roles, mainly _mother_ parts – and _that_ was the end of the line, accept one and you would get stuck playing variations of it until it was time for you to be the grandmother.

“ _But Virginia?”_ her best friend lamented. _“What is there to_ do _in Virginia?”_

Not just Virginia but _The Seam_. A quiet little town a couple hours away from Richmond where, from what she had found on her Google search, nothing really happened aside for random mining incidents.

With Christmas looming ahead, the perspective of going to her parents’ house, where her mother would spend the whole holidays ranting about what a failure Effie was when _she_ still had a regular role on the same soap opera she had been on for twenty years – and didn’t Effie want her to put in a word? – and her other daughter was a bankable actress, hadn’t really been an exciting one.

Getting the call from her manager about the latest movie she had auditioned for – a movie she had _really_ been interested in because it was a good role, a strong capable woman with a touch of sassy humor that would have been right down her alley – had been the last straw.

Suddenly, it had been too much.

Her huge empty mansion, the subtle hints from her manager that he had not yet declined the _Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’_ offer to join the cast, the knowledge that he was probably right and that, saved from reality TV and mindless soap operas, she wouldn’t get any big role anytime soon…

She had opened her computer on a whim and looked up ideas for last minute holiday plans, with the vague thought that she might convince Portia and Cinna to go on a cruise. She had found the house swapping program instead and it had sounded even better.

Effie wasn’t very good at solitude but she was done with the fake world she lived in on an everyday basis. A little cottage in a rural mining town in Virginia had seemed like the perfect solution to her problem. She would disappear for a while. It would be relaxing, anonymous, and it would help her get some needed breathing space to evaluate her life.

“Well…” she hesitated, pondering Portia’s question. What _was_ there to do in Virginia? None of the crazy glamorous parties they were used to going to, that was for sure. “There is a hiking trail in the woods and…” She desperately tried to remember what else had been in the cottage’s owner’s description on the site. “Oh, and there is snow. How _charming_. I will send you a picture tomorrow. It really looks like a little Christmas village.”

That might have been a slight exaggeration.

She had seen little in terms of decorations. But there was snow, and trees, and a blue sky. It certainly felt more like Christmas than California and its harsh sun.

 _“So the cottage looks good, then?”_ her friend insisted. _“Isn’t it odd? Being in a stranger’s house?”_  

Very much so.

There were framed pictures on the walls. A blond woman she assumed to be Aster, the person she had talked to on the website and who had seemed as desperate to get away from her life for the holidays as she had been, a man, and two little girls. She was wondering where the man and the little girls were. She had found a room with two beds on the first floor, next to the master bedroom she had claimed for herself, but it hadn’t seemed recently lived-in. And there were no pictures of the children past six and eleven, which was odd because the room upstairs hinted at two teenagers rather than a toddler and a child.

It felt weird to be in Aster’s house and it was difficult to make herself at home in a space that was so different from what she was used to. The house was functional but small, the appliances were rustic at best… By the time she had unpacked, it had seemed as if she had brought more stuff than there originally was in the cottage.

“Absolutely not.” she lied. “I think I will really enjoy myself here. Why, perhaps I could even write a book on the industry…”

It was an old joke between the two of them that if they ever wrote down every piece of gossip or scandal that had never made it to the public, they would be rich until their dying day. Portia was a costume designer and she always had the juicy rumors.

 _“If you are sure…”_ Portia finally relented. _“As long as you are happy…_ _You are coming back in two weeks, right ? You will be back for New Year’s Eve? Plutarch Heavensbee is planning the most outrageous party.”_

Plutarch Heavensbee hadn’t wanted her on the last three movies he had produced because she was too old and not enough of a guarantee of success – _nothing personal, just business, Miss Trinket, you are a lovely professional woman and I would have loved to work with you_ – she was as impatient to go to his party as to go to her next dentist appointment. Nevertheless, that was how the game was played. Go to parties, meet the right people, make sure they liked you…

“It sounds delightful.” she declared. “I will be back by then, of course. Oh, if it is not too much trouble, darling… Might you pop at the house when you have a moment? I just want to make sure Aster is settling alright and doesn’t have difficulties with the technology…”

Her _at the cutting edge of technology_ mansion certainly wasn’t what the woman was used to. She was afraid Aster might be finding it overwhelming. _She_ wasn’t always sure what she was doing with all the buttons on the control panels and she had been living there for years.

 _“Of course.”_ Portia agreed at once.

They chatted a bit more and Effie used the opportunity to finish the second tour of the cottage, not any more impressed with it as she had been the first time. She ended up back in the kitchen just as she hung up, working herself into a panic when she realized there would be no staff to feed her in Virginia.

She had never cooked a meal in her whole life.

She had tried once, for Seneca, thinking it would be a nice surprise to give their evening to the staff so they could have the house for themselves. The meal had been inedible and Seneca had told her to _never_ try that again. That if they had maids, cooks and a butler, it was for a reason.

Then again, Seneca had always liked his standing.

Which was probably why he had ended up caught in a financial scandal and had killed himself – or gotten killed – pushing her back in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons, despite the fact that they had been separated for a couple of years at that point.

She chased her ex-boyfriend from her mind, put her hands on her hips and contemplated her options.

Going out it was.

They must have take-out in this town.

It turned out, they _didn’t_.

Or if they did, it was too well hidden for her to find.

She discovered quickly enough that you could walk around The Seam in a good total of an hour. It was the time it took her to circle back to the dusty road that led up to Aster’s cottage. There was a bar she bypassed, a restaurant that looked like it wouldn’t pass any sanitary control, a bakery that had been closed for an hour already like most businesses in town, a big white cube she supposed to be the Justice Building right in front of a square adorned with a few fairy lights and a small pitiful tree in the middle of it, the school, a nice suburb that looked mostly uninhabited – probably because it was expensive for the area – more small cottages and even poorer looking buildings.

All in all, not quite as festive as she would have liked.

Determined to be positive nevertheless, she cheerfully hurried to the shop that would only be open for another half hour according to the sign on the door, grabbed a cart and tossed everything she fancied in it without worrying about carbs, calories, or how much exercise she would need to do to keep up with her diet. She was taking a vacation – that might become a permanent one as far as her acting career was concerned if she didn’t find out a solution – and she _would_ enjoy herself.

The few people in the store stared at her. She didn’t really mind, she was used to it, but she couldn’t tell if it was because she had been recognized or because she was a stranger in a small town where everybody knew everybody. If it was the first case, she hoped the notion that _Effie Trinket_ would randomly choose to go to the back end of Virginia for Christmas was ridiculous enough that no one would believe it. Not that it would be interesting to a lot of people anyway…

She smiled at the man tending the cashing machine who seemed a bit disturbed by her chirpiness. People weren’t chirpy enough around there, that was plain to see.

She made it out of the store and back to the cottage without anyone asking her for an autograph or a picture.

She didn’t know if she was happy about it or not.

By nine thirty, she had eaten as much of the junk food as she could stomach, had drunk two glasses of red wine, had surfed on the ten channels this house got, and she was bored out of her mind. The cottage was silent. She _hated_ silence.

She walked around with her third glass of wine, inspecting the pictures more closely, straightening frames that leaned too much on one side or the other… She did the dishes out of boredom, thought about calling her mother to cancel her original plans to go over for the holidays and then sent a text to her sister instead, burdening her with the task of playing messenger, she started a book only to toss it away after two pages, checked out the DVDs collection and pouted at the meager bounty she found… She picked up _The Escort,_ looked at her younger self on the cover and then placed it at the very bottom of the pile with a displeased wince.

Everyone agreed it had been her greatest role, her best movie, the one that everybody would always remember about her…

She wished it hadn’t been about playing such a stereotype of a stupid blond woman who had been in over her head in mafia business and appeared too many times in her underwear. Critics agreed she had brought an unsuspected depth to an otherwise very flat character and that it was what had made the movie a classic. Effie wasn’t _that_ convinced.

By ten thirty she had had enough of solitude, breathing space, and countryside. She gave up and went upstairs, repacked her suitcases, and vowed to get on a plane as early as possible the next morning.

She tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar house’s noises.

Truth be told, it was almost a relief when the racket started.

It was a hammering sound.

And it took her a while to realize it came from downstairs.

She slipped on her pink silk dressing gown and crept out of bed, hugging the walls as she made her way to the stairs. It became obvious soon enough that the hammering came from the front door and that it wasn’t a ghost or a monster that only lived in the countryside and preyed on foreign women in isolated cottages – as her imagination had conjured – but _a man_ who was clearly impatient to be let in.

“For _fuck’s sake_ , Aster!” the man shouted, punctuating every word with another frantic knock. “Come on… I drank too much and I really need to pee! Don’t think I ain’t gonna do it on your flower beds… ” She opened her eyes wide, wondering if he was a lunatic. He clearly knew Aster but… “You know I can hear you, right? I know you’re there.” He had stopped knocking, at least, but Effie held her breath all the same. If she screamed… Would someone hear her? The cottage didn’t have any close neighbors… The man sighed and lowered his voice. “Okay, I’m sorry about the other day, alright? Shouldn’t have said what I said. You’ve got enough on your plate and I ain’t the best one to judge… Come on, I’m an asshole but I really _really_ need to pee…”

Effie hesitated.

Her instinct told her to run to the kitchen, grab a knife and hide. That was what she would have done at home if a strange man had tried to knock down her door – that, _and_ call the police and then the press because it would have been good publicity. But it was different around there, wasn’t it? Tight neighborhood and all that jazz?

The man obviously was an acquaintance of her host and Aster hadn’t warned her against anyone. She had simply said she needed time away to rethink her life – something that Effie had echoed wholeheartedly.

She tentatively switched the light on, unlocked the door, wrapping her dressing gown tighter around herself against the chill of the night, and opened it only wide enough to get a peek.

“Finally!” he scowled “The _fuck_ you…” He abruptly stopped when his grey eyes settled on her face. “You’re not Aster.”

He was gorgeous.

Not the drop dead handsome models she was used to seeing at parties or on movie sets but gorgeous nonetheless. Broad shoulders, stormy grey eyes that looked a little glassy – but he _had_ mentioned alcohol, hadn’t he? – an out of control stubble that covered his chin, not styled too long dirty blond hair… His voice had a low timbre and a southern accent. He was manly in a way very few men in California were. _Gorgeous_.

And she was _staring_.

Which was rude.

“I am not.” she said at last. “We swapped houses for the holidays.”

“Swapped houses.” he repeated as if it was a foreign concept.

Then again it wasn’t _that_ common.

She had never heard about it before stumbling on the website by accident.

“Yes.” she confirmed with a smile, relieved to see he didn’t look like a lunatic after all. “I am here and she is in Beverly Hills.”

He blinked and then licked his lips.

Her eyes immediately darted down and back up. She flushed, hoping he hadn’t spotted the tale, a little too aware that _she_ was being the creepy one right now.

She had been having a dry spell for a long _long_ time and she blamed her hormones.

And he was attractive.

That didn’t help.

“Right.” He didn’t really sound pleased. “She didn’t say.”

“It was last minute.” she offered. At least, it had been for her.

He studied her a moment longer and then cleared his throat. “You mind if… I _really_ need to…” He wanted to come inside and she wasn’t sure about that. Opening the door to a stranger wasn’t clever, inviting him inside was even worse… He must have realized she was wary because he showed her his hands in a peaceful gesture – very big, very calloused, very powerful hands. It seemed her brain had stopped computing and she barely heard what he said. “Look, I’m sorry for the banging on the door, I was expecting Aster. I’m… _family_. I promise I’m no creep but I really need to use the bathroom.”

She noticed the hesitation before he said _family_ and she figured he might be a boyfriend. He had said he was sorry for something earlier… Perhaps they had gotten in an argument and that was why Aster had left, to decide what she wanted to do about her relationship. It didn’t really explain the pictures with the other man and the little girls but… Maybe they were divorced and the children lived with their father. Those things happened.

Going with her guts – at least, she hoped it was her guts telling her he didn’t really look dangerous and not other parts of her doing the thinking – she stepped aside and opened the door wider.

“It is down the hall.” she said unnecessarily.

He shot her an amused glance and she pursed her lips at her own stupidity as he disappeared down the corridor. She awkwardly waited near the front door with her arms folded over her chest. It didn’t take him long to come back and he looked steadier on his feet. A little more sober.

His grey eyes took her in from head to bare toes, lingering a little on her legs. Effie awkwardly patted her hair, certain it was spiking in every direction and regretting the absence of make-up. He wasn’t quite openly doing it but it was clear he was checking her out. Or, perhaps, trying to figure out if she really was who he thought she was. 

“Name’s Haymitch.” he offered eventually, outstretching his hand. She eyed it uncertainly for long enough that he snorted. “I washed it. It’s safe to touch.”

She flushed red at her own lack of manners and shook his hand, swallowing hard when she found it warm under her palm. He had a strong grip too.

“Those are things you do but never allude to in polite society, you know.” she pointed out. “It is rude.”

His eyes were twinkling with amusement. “One think you should know about me… I ain’t big on manners, sweetheart.”

She wrinkled her nose at the pet name. Realizing belatedly that they were still holding hands, she snatched hers back with some embarrassment. She _never_ got so flustered. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She blamed Virginia. 

“ _Clearly_.” she huffed.

If possible, it seemed to amuse him even more. “Still haven’t gotten your name…”

“Oh.” It had been so long since she had needed to introduce herself… “Euphemia.”

 “That’s a mouthful.” he commented.

“Effie.” she amended with a sigh, waiting for the inevitable _are you really…_ or the more polite version _excuse me but are you…_ Her name, associated with her face, was usually enough for people to be certain of her identity.

She waited and waited for the spark of recognition to flare in his gaze but it never came.

“Effie.” he repeated with a slow smirk. The way he said her name, slowly and with a hint of humor, sent a wave of _want_ through her body. Truly, Virginia wasn’t agreeing with her. It was making her crazy. A bit like the way he was eyeing her, like she was candy on legs and he was starved for sugar. It was gratifying to be looked at this way when she had a bad case of bed hair and no make-up on, she figured – because she knew how plain she looked without artifices. She wasn’t sure how long they spent standing there, staring at each other more or less covertly, trapped into an odd spell, but he suddenly seemed to snap out of it. “You said Aster was in _Beverly Hills_? Aster Everdeen in California… The _fuck_ she went there for?”

“Vacation?” she hummed, uncomfortable betraying the other woman’s confidences about wanting some space from her current life. “It is only for two weeks.”

“Yeah, sure, _only_.” he grumbled. “She could have warned us first. And for Christmas too. _Nice_.” He shook his head with obvious annoyance but the smirk slowly came back when his eyes found hers once more. “Means we got _you_ for the time being though… Can’t say it’s a bad view…”

She bit on the inside of her cheek to prevent the smile from bursting forth. “Does that line usually work out for you?”

“The line and a couple of glasses…” he shrugged, his gaze darting down to her legs. “You might want to buy some warmer pajamas, sweetheart… It gets cold fast in winter around here.”

“Perhaps I intend to have someone keeping me warm.” she retorted, lifting a challenging eyebrow. “Perhaps my husband is flying down to join me tomorrow.”

He leaned his shoulder against the wall, all casualness, mirroring her folded arms posture. “You’ve got no ring.”

“Perhaps I take it off to sleep.” she argued.

“Nobody takes their wedding ring off to sleep.” he countered.

“What are you?” she scoffed “A cop?”

“Spy.” he corrected, clearly enjoying her small frown. “Long retired though.”

He looked serious enough but she was certain he was having her own so she chuckled. “A regular James Bond.”

“Never liked martinis.” he joked. “I’m a whiskey man.”

“Too bad I only have red wine, then.” she grinned.

“Wouldn’t say no to a James Bond girl, though…” he teased.

He tilted his head to the side, looking smug enough that it annoyed her. It was one thing to share such chemistry as to immediately feel an attraction, it was entirely another to act so sure it would lead up to anything. She looked at the front door but he didn’t really seem to take the hint so she decided to go for the jugular. Flirting had been fun enough but she highly disliked being the other woman. “How long have you and Aster been an item?”

He frowned, clearly taken aback, and then made a face as if the thought was actually painful.

“Never.” he offered. “We’re just old friends, sweetheart. Kinda like a sister, to be honest.”

“Effie.” she corrected through gritted teeth. She didn’t like the familiarity of the pet name. She didn’t like the thrill it sent down her spine either.

He ignored her. “I like red wine.”

It was as rude as it got, imposing on her like that, fishing for an invite to stay…

She ought to kick him out the door.

She ought to…

“I am leaving tomorrow.” she stated. “This trip is not at all what I thought it would be. I do not even know why I left, truly. I do not… What I am trying to say is… I do not need anything complicated, nor am I _looking_ for _anything_ really, and…”

“I don’t do _complicated_.” he cut her off with a shrug. “Look, if I read the whole thing wrong, I’m sorry… I can go. No problem.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked past her.

She grabbed his arm.

And then stared at the fingers gripping the sleeve of his grey coat, wondering why her body seemed to have chosen today of all days to get a mind of its own.

“I do not usually do one-night-stands.” she confessed, still looking at her own hand.

She couldn’t _afford_ one-night-stands. Too many people faked interest for fifteen minutes of fame later on, spreading tales about her that were either humiliating or embarrassing. She had long become something inhuman for most people, a doll without feelings that could be used for their own purposes and then put back on a shelf. She had accepted that when she had realized what being a public figure entailed. She had been willing to put the discomfort aside for the fame. But fame was a flitting mistress.

“Funny.” he teased. “That’s the only thing I do.”

She looked up at him, pursing her lips in a determined line, jutting her chin out a little. “Do you know who I am?”

Because if he did… If it was just about _fucking_ a movie star…

He looked genuinely confused. “Should I? What… You’re famous or something?”

“No.” she lied immediately, without an ounce of shame.

It was the first time in a long time someone had expressed interest in _her_ and not in _Effie Trinket_. She pulled on his sleeve hard enough that he stumbled closer, catching himself with a hand on the wall over her head, trapping her between his warm body and the hard surface at her back.

He didn’t move immediately like she expected him to though.

He stared straight into her eyes, his free hand coming to rest on her waist… She grabbed the lapels of his coat, automatically smoothing the creased fabric before moving down to undo the buttons. His fingers tugged at the belt of her dressing gown and she swallowed hard when it came loose, opening over a lacy nightgown that didn’t really hide much.

She tried not to think back to all the articles that had appeared lately, about how she didn’t look as firm as she used to be in her twenties, about how she should get her breasts done, about how…

He brushed his knuckles up her stomach to the flat plane between her breasts, up her collarbone and to her chin. She hadn’t realized she had ducked her head until he nudged it up. Her heart was racing in her chest and, for a brief moment of lucidity, she wondered _what she was doing_. Having sex with a stranger in another stranger’s house was so not _her_ …

“Beautiful.” he whispered, sounding almost awed, and it was enough for her insecurities to disappear.

She had always been a rather confident person, the rare few moments of doubt notwithstanding.

She coiled her hand at the back of his nape and pulled him in a kiss. It was awkward at first, like all first kisses were, but they soon found a rhythm. The kiss was brutal, _hungry_. There was no sweet build-up, no slow testing period. It was teeth and tongue. It was an immediate fight for dominance that tore a moan from her throat and right into his mouth.

The sound seemed to drive him mad.

He scooped her up.

His palms ran on the back of her thighs and then she was lifted up, kept in place by the wall at her back and the hands on her ass, under the nightgown. His little finger brushed her core and her hips automatically buckled, wanting more of that sort of attention.

It made him chuckle against her lips. “Eager, yeah?”

“Do not sound so smug.” she rebuked, a bit out of breath as she struggled to push the coat off his shoulders. “It is not as charming as men think it is.”

He pinned her to the wall with his hips long enough to get out of the coat and the navy blue woolen sweater he had on underneath, forcing her to lock her legs hard around his waist. She took the opportunity to lose the dressing gown, immediately going back to the kissing once the offending pieces of clothing weren’t in the way. She was annoyed to find he still had an undershirt on and she pouted, tugging on the cotton shirt.

“Off.” she demanded.

For the first time since he had stepped inside, he didn’t look cocky. A dark shadow passed over his face and she wondered if she had trespassed on unmentioned boundaries. He slipped it over his head before she had time to tell him he could keep it if he preferred it that way and immediately kissed her hard, almost as if he wanted to punish her for the request. Her hands explored the skin of his back, bumping on small scars, only to roam up and to tangle in his hair once more, forcing his head down to her throat. He accepted the change of direction easily enough and started sucking and nipping at the tender flesh, eventually bowing over her breasts. The feel of his hot mouth closing on her nipple over the nightgown, the raspy feeling of the lace coupled with his wet tongue…

She tossed her head back with a soft whimper, her hands forcing his head even closer, making him chuckle even as he fought her grip to draw back long enough to nuzzle the gown out of the way. How she ended up completely naked, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t complain. Not when it felt so good.

She could feel how hard he was against her and she kept on rocking her hips as much as she could, trapped as she was, rubbing herself on him, trying to create friction, to get her release…

His fingers reached between her legs just as he playfully bit down on her nipple and she cried out a little.

“Please…” she breathed out, untangling her fingers from his hair to try to reach his belt. The angle was too awkward for her to work with, not with his arm in the middle. “Haymitch…”

The name passed her lips as naturally as if she had been uttering it for years instead of for the first time. It made him growl in a very primitive way and she wished it hadn’t been as arousing to her as it was because she could feel herself melt embarrassingly fast. She was too far gone though. Completely lost to lust. The only thing that mattered was to find release and _fast_.

In two seconds, he had the belt undone and his pants down to his ankles but instead of doing what she wanted him to do, he pinned her further against the wall, their chest pressed flat against each other, and he brought his mouth to her right ear. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes and tried to rock her hips. “You know what I want.” She could _feel_ him against her stomach. Hot and hard and _big_ …

“Say it.” he ordered, biting down on her earlobe, sucking it in his mouth…

If she had been in her right mind, she might have been embarrassed by the loud moan that escaped her.

“ _Fuck_ me.” she begged, long past any sense of pride.

“Thought you were all about manners, Princess…” he mocked, his fingers teasing her by slowly brushing against her clit, not putting on enough pressure for her to even hope getting off. “A bit rude, that…”

Of all the men in the world, she _had_ to end up having a one-night-stand with one who got his kicks out of torturing her with pleasure… That was her kind of luck.

“ _Fuck_ me, please.” she answered dutifully, and a bit desperately, trying and failing to rub herself on his hand. _Anything_ at that point. “Please. Please. _Please_.”

She heard him lick his lips and take a deep breath and it occurred to her it might ask a lot of restrain of him to not just simply take her then and there. The muscles of his shoulders were almost shaking with how tense he was.

“How do you want it, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice was a bit different this time, less playful and more… _Serious_ , maybe. As if he was really asking for directions, for boundaries not to cross.

She wasn’t in any state to understand or appreciate that though.

“ _Now_ , you… You…” she stammered.

“Asshole?” he suggested, chuckling a little.

“ _Yes_!” she snapped. “Oh, I hate you… I _hate_ …” Two fingers were pushed into her and whatever she was going to say ended up in gibberish as he pumped them in and out. “More.” she demanded. “Please. _More_.”

“How do you want it?” he insisted, biting down on her collarbone and immediately licking the sting of it away.

“Hard.” she panted. “ _Hard_.”

“See? Wasn’t so difficult to say, yeah?” he snorted, taking his fingers away and guiding himself to her opening. She closed her eyes, readying herself for what would come next… And let out a whine of frustration when she felt herself being abruptly placed down on her own two feet. “ _Shit_.” he spat.

Cold swooped down on her sweaty skin, leaving goose bumps on her arms and legs, and she wrapped her arms around herself, unsure what was going on. He was crouching over his clothes and she didn’t understand what had gone wrong, why he would get dressed and leave before they even got to…

It was only when he pulled his wallet out of his coat and a square silver package out of the wallet that she understood and relaxed, blaming herself for not thinking about it first. Sex with a stranger was crazy enough. Unprotected sex? What was going on with her tonight?

He did a quick job of putting the condom on and then he was right back there. It could have been uncomfortable because the mood had shifted a little – and it _was_ a bit – but when he lifted her right thigh up she didn’t hesitate in pulling him closer. And when he hooked his elbow under her knee and _finally_ entered her, she hissed in bliss. He was careful at first and for that she was glad, because he was big and she needed a few seconds to adjust.

“Move.” She wacked his ass as soon as she was ready, the sound of slapped flesh echoing hard in the silent house. He drew his head back from her neck long enough to lift a challenging eyebrow and she flashed him an innocent grin. “Two can play that game.”

He pulled himself back almost all the way before slamming home in one short thrust, making her clutch his shoulders for purchase. Her legs were already trembling and she wasn’t sure she would manage to stay up for long. After a few erratic thrusts, they found a rhythm that worked for both of them. Fast and violent. And it wasn’t long before she came, _hard,_ muffling her scream in his shoulder. It didn’t take much more to trigger his own release.

They remained against the wall for a while, trying to catch their breath and huddling together for warmth because the air on their cooling skins was very uncomfortable.

Eventually, he stepped back and that was when the awkwardness set in. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck before pulling his pants and underwear up. “So… You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes.” she nodded, her eyes darting everywhere but to his face. That was how she spotted the long scar on his stomach, probably the reason why he had been reluctant to take off the undershirt. It was an angry white on his tanned skin and very swollen. It looked old but… “I wanted a quiet place for a few days but this town might be a little _too_ quiet. I am a city girl, I am afraid.”

He was quick at getting dressed. He was back in his clothes and she was still standing there stark naked. She bent down to grab her nightgown but he was quicker, he snatched it from the floor and placed it in her hands, letting his fingers linger.

“It’s a boring place but there are good people.” he said. “If you need quiet… It’s a good place to be. Give it a shot.” His grey eyes fell on her mouth and he didn’t really hesitate before following that statement with a kiss. It was soft compared to everything that had happened between them. And it shook her to the core. “Bye, sweetheart.”

“My name is _Effie_.” she protested.  

“Not likely to forget.” he snorted. “Or _you_.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. Not that she had to. With a last farewell peck, he was out the door.

For the first time in months, she slept like a baby the whole night.

The next morning, she looked up flights but didn’t book any.


	2. What Will Santa Claus (When He Finds Everybody Swingin')

That morning, she went for a jog – a task complicated by the snow that covered most of the pavements in this town – snapped a few pictures along the way that she immediately sent to Portia, ignored her mother’s calls, and came back to the cottage for a hot shower. The water pressure was second-rate at best but it did wonders for her aching muscles. She was sore in places she hadn’t been sore in a long time and it felt good.

She indulged herself in the shower, letting her mind conjure up Haymitch’s hands… She had a feeling he would be her go-to fantasy for a while.

Her agent called while she was making herself tea and she let it go to voicemail, already knowing there was no good news, no lucky break. And there _wasn’t_ , just a reminder that if worse came to worse they still had the reality show request pending – and would she think again about that? Truth be told, she didn’t know who had been more relieved not to have to talk to the other directly. Her or her manager?

She unpacked after that.

What had she waiting for her in Beverly Hills after all? With the notorious exception of Portia and Cinna, nothing but fake friends who would commiserate and pretend not to understand why she wasn’t in the latest big movie only to spread more gossips behind her back once she was gone. And _truly_ the prospect of going home for Christmas was a tedious one. She would be better off alone out there.

The town was small and very simple but Haymitch had said there were good people and she was determined to believe him and give The Seam a fair shot.

She spent the afternoon walking around town, taking the time to admire the local architecture, stopping in several shops and visiting the local museum on mining – who probably saw two guests a year. After ten snaps of different miner outfits throughout the ages, Portia sent her back a selfie of herself making a face. Effie chuckled when she saw the caption. “ _Are you THAT bored?”_

She decided she might have seen enough mining equipment for the day and she headed out after saying goodbye to the guard – a nice young man named Darius who looked bored out of his mind. Her phone chimed as she was reaching the little town’s main street and she smiled at the picture her friend had sent her this time. Cinna had joined her and had propped his chin on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist. His golden eyeliner was a little smudged.  _“Cinna says come back, we can have our own Christmas party. We’ll find you a date so you can get laid. Our gift to you.”_ read that caption.

She winced and snapped a picture of the pitiful tree in the center of the square, typing fast. “Tell your boyfriend to check his make-up. Some stylist, he is.”

She slipped her phone in her purse and ignored the next chime. She stepped in the bakery and immediately froze when she realized they must have been getting ready to close. The woman she had glimpsed on her stroll earlier wasn’t behind the counter anymore, there was only a blond teenager with an easy smile sweeping the floor.

“Oh, my apologies…” she exclaimed. “I thought you were still open…”

The boy was staring _hard_ , gaping a little even. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and instead of finding it annoying, Effie found it endearing. Mainly because teenagers usually didn’t really know her. Some did because of her guest staring in a few TV shows but, mostly, her public was older. 

“Excuse me, but…” the boy hesitated. The polite kind, then, not the ones who immediately took their phone out for a picture without her permission.

“Yes.” she smiled kindly. “I _am_ Effie Trinket. Although I am hoping for my stay here to remain _discreet._ ”

“Oh, yes, of course!” he hurried in promising with a beaming smile. “You’re staying here then? In The Seam? Are you shooting a movie?”

“No, I am simply on vacation.” she offered.

It was clear from his expression that he didn’t understand why someone would purposefully choose to come there for a vacation but he was too polite to comment. He propped the broom on the wall and hopped behind the counter. “Did you want something in particular? We don’t have any bread left but there are a few pastries and a couple of quiches…”

“If you were closing, I don’t want to be a bother…” she winced. She would hate for the boy to finish late because of her.

“Are you kidding?” he laughed. “I’ve seen _all_ your movies.”

“Yes?” She wandered closer to the window display, as much because she was hungry as because she found his admiration touching. “Which one is your favorite?”

She expected _The Escort_ because it was _everyone_ ’s favorite. Or, maybe, given his age, one of the latest romantic comedies… Those where she only had a second role that was quickly outshone by the lead.

“ _The Reaping_.” he grinned. “Best scary movie _ever_. My brothers and I watch it on every Halloween.”

It surprised her. That was one of her earliest work, she had been sixteen or seventeen, and the movie wasn’t really mainstream. The plot wasn’t exactly well thought-through and it was more ridiculous than scary. Her character had been the archetypal blonde cheerleader who had gotten killed in the first half hour.

“Original choice.” she mused, after asking him for one of the quiches.

“It’s a classic of the genre.” he shrugged. “And… I don’t want to sound weird but I really do love you… They always give you such stereotypical parts but… You always add so many layers to the characters… You’re _awesome_.”

She blinked hastily to chase away the tears that burned her eyes and flashed the boy a bright smile. “Thank you… I am sorry, I did not catch your name.”

“Peeta.” he supplied. “Mellark. My family owns the bakery.”

“Thank you, Peeta.” she repeated warmly.

She paid for the quiche, offered to let him take a picture as long as he didn’t post it on any social media before she was gone and safe from possible unwanted attention, and left the bakery feeling a lot better than she had when she had entered it. She settled on a bench on the square to eat her quiche, watching people walk by, until the hour grew so late that most people had either gone home or found another place to be. She fixed her scarf, burrowed her hands in the pockets of her pink trenchcoat – that was in no way warm enough for the local weather – and headed back to the cottage.

She passed in front of the bar on the way and stopped, hesitating a little. _The Hob_ wasn’t really inviting from outside. It looked shady. But it also looked warm and she could hear laughter and low music from inside and… She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone to a place simply to enjoy herself and not just to _be seen_.

She ran her fingers through her hair and pushed the door.

She regretted it immediately.

It was like someone had pressed the pause button on a remote. Conversations died, eyes turned to her… She almost cracked a joke about having played a saloon girl in a western once because this was exactly what it felt like.

They _really_ didn’t get a lot of strangers around here…

“Effie.” a somehow familiar voice called. She turned her head and smiled when she spotted Haymitch standing up from a table full of people in a corner and making his way over. It seemed knowing someone from town was enough credentials for the regulars because the bar unfroze and everyone went back to their own business. She didn’t quite know what to make of the butterflies in her stomach when Haymitch’s hand ended up on her arm. “You didn’t go.”

He sounded half pleased and half wary.

“I decided to take your advice and give the town a chance.” she replied with a beaming smile. “I must say I am glad I did so far.”

“Good.” he smirked, tugging a little on the sleeve of her coat. “ _That_ ’s not good. You’re gonna freeze.”

“Perhaps I will find a man to warm me up then.” she challenged.

He snorted, taking a step closer, very much getting in her space. “Thought you didn’t do one-night-stands.”

“I am developing a taste for them.” she teased, tilting her head to the side in the oldest invitation in the book.

His grey eyes traveled down her exposed throat where her liquid foundation hadn’t done a perfect job at hiding the marks he had left the previous night.

“I’m with some friends…” he said slowly, almost hesitantly.

She glanced at the table he had been sitting at, spotted the couple, the slightly older man, and the young twenty something with a pixy cut, and she waved that remark away with a smile. “No worries. I was not expecting to find you here anyway… Do not feel like you have to entertain me.”

“Was gonna ask if you wanted to come with.” he mocked. “Or, you know… You can sit at the bar and let everyone gawk at you.”

“That is _always_ flattering.” she argued. “You should gawk a little more.”

“You’re so full of yourself…” he accused, chuckling a little.

“Charming.” she deadpanned. “There go your manners again.”

He winked at her, pulling her by the elbow toward his table. “You’re not after my manners, sweetheart…”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Back to pet names, are we?”

He shot her an amused look but didn’t answer, leaving her to face the unabashed staring of his friends. And she knew _that kind_ of staring. There wasn’t a soul at that table who didn’t know who she was.

“Hello.” she said, making sure to sound sweet but a little distant.

“ _Holy_. _Shit_.” the older man spat.

Haymitch glared at him. “The _fuck_ ’s your problem, Chaff?” He shook his head. “Don’t mind him, he hasn’t seen a pretty woman in a while…”

“Thanks.” the young woman with short hair scoffed. “Real nice, Abernathy.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes, apparently not bothered by his blunder. “This is Chaff, Finnick, Annie and Jo.” he said, pointing out to everyone in turn. “That’s Effie. She’s staying at Aster’s place for a while.”

“Where’s Aster?” Chaff frowned.

“Beverly Hills.” Effie explained. “We swapped houses for the holidays.”

“You swapped a mansion in the Hills for a cottage in the middle of nowhere?” Jo sneered. “Too much cocaine?”

She licked her lips and took a step back. The cocaine rumor had started when she had still been with Seneca and no matter how many times she denied it, it always came around now and then. She never departed from her smile though. “I think I might head home after all. I had _quite_ a day out and…”

“Don’t let Johanna bug you.” Finnick cut her off, sounding apologetic on his friend’s behalf. “She’s like that with everyone. Sit down… Have a drink with us… Any friend of Haymitch is always welcome.”

Haymitch nudged her and she settled on the frayed leather bench seat next to Johanna, feeling a bit like she was facing a jury. On the other side of the table, Chaff, Finnick and Annie were all watching her with rapt attention – although the woman who had yet to speak was nice enough not to do it too obviously. She was a bit startled to realize Chaff was missing a hand but she schooled her features fast enough that she didn’t think he saw her moment of shock.

“What’s your poison, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked. His lips twitched. “Red wine?”

The right corner of her mouth quirked up at that private joke. “A Margarita.”

“You’re sure you can handle your tequila?” Jo taunted. “You don’t like a _Shirley Temple_ better?”

“You’re done being a little _shit_?” Haymitch rebuffed her and, miracle of all miracles, the young woman backed down with a scowl.

Chaff was studying her, his dark gaze often going back to Haymitch, and she tried not to let it unnerve her. As soon as he left for the bar to get her drink and a refill for himself and Finnick, the man let out a few chuckles. “He’s got _no_ clue who you are, yeah?” 

Effie winced. “Does it matter?”

“You tell me, love.” Chaff challenged, leaning back in his seat. “What are you doing around here?”

“I love your movies.” Annie came to her rescue, speaking for the first time. She sounded shy and a bit skittish. Finnick immediately squeezed her hand with a soft smile, as if to encourage her. Young love, Effie mused, so sweet. 

“Thank you.” she smiled, switching subject on what _she_ did for a living.

The more she talked, the more the girl relaxed. She felt the tension fade a little, the protective gloom of the group vanished when she realized Effie wasn’t about to upset their friend. Because, clearly, they all felt they needed to protect Annie and it soon became obvious to her that the young woman wasn’t entirely well in her head. She was struggling, that much was obvious, and the more Effie tried to put her at ease, the easier it got for her as well.

By the time Haymitch came back with their drinks, she had already made plans to meet up with Annie the next day for coffee.

“Making friends?” he mocked as he slid on the bench seat next to her. She moved a little to leave him some room but not much and they ended up with their sides pressed together. He didn’t complain though.

“Wasn’t that the aim?” she retorted, accepting her glass with a smile of thanks.

“The aim was to save you from gawking men, yeah?” he reminded her.

“Look at you being all chivalrous.” she grinned. “And some _slanderous_ people say you have _no_ manners…”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” he smirked.

She was a bit aware all his friends were staring at them and that Chaff and Finnick exchanged a meaningful look but she didn’t let that spoil her fun. They were nice enough, if a little too blunt for her tastes. Johanna was an outright jerk who kept provoking her for the fun of it, Finnick was like everyone’s annoying younger brother but he was nice enough, Chaff on the other hand kept sending some gibes her way that could be taken as jokes but that were a tad too harsh in her opinion. She kept having to put him back in line – which Haymitch obviously seemed to enjoy.

She liked the banter with _him_ better of all.

They couldn’t agree on anything and spent the whole evening arguing about _everything_ but it was such _fun_ … Her cheeks were flushed, she was dying to wipe away the smug smirk on his lips – with a kiss or with a fist, she wasn’t sure – and she laughed more in a couple of hours than she could remember laughing in a very long time.

It was a nice evening.

She shed her trenchcoat at some point and pretended not to notice the way Haymitch’s eyes immediately drifted to her cleavage. He made a quirk about her _really_ needing to learn how to dress for winter – because apparently a darling green cashmere sweater with a sweetheart neckline _wasn’t_ winter friendly – but she didn’t think he mind the view much. His arm ended up on the back of the seat not long after that and she slid further and further against his side as the evening went on.

They were obviously a tight group of friends. She figured out from the various conversations that they had either worked together abroad or had traveled a lot with each other… They had interesting stories and private jokes she didn’t quite get.

It lasted until the owner, Ripper, started kicking everyone out to close for the night and she was surprised to realize she had been there for more than three hours.

“Your girl’s a firecracker, buddy.” Chaff told Haymitch as they were all getting ready to leave. She pretended not to hear, exchanging phone numbers with Annie.

“Not my girl.” Haymitch grumbled.

“So you didn’t _fuck_ her yet?” his friend chuckled, hitting his shoulder with his stump. “’Cause I’m betting she’s a wild one…”

Effie pursed her lips in distaste, certain of what would follow because men were peacocks and liked to preen, but she kept on finalizing her plans with Annie.

“ _Fuck_ _off_.” he spat. “She’s not that kind of women, yeah?”

By _that kind of women_ , she figured he meant women they slept with and then talked about over a glass of whiskey.

Chaff chuckled but it sounded a bit wary. “Careful you don’t bite on more than you can chew, Haymitch. Girls like that don’t belong around here…”

She wasn’t sure what his answer was because Johanna bumped into her right at that moment and she had to follow the flow that brought everyone outside. The cold air was a shock and she buried herself into her trenchcoat.

“Effie, do you need a ride?” Finnick asked with a friendly smile. “We’re going your way.”

“I’m walking her home.” Haymitch declared.

“Presumptuous.” she murmured with a grin, for his ears only.

“Just making sure you get home in one piece.” he denied, prompting her to start walking with a hand at the small of her back once they had said their goodbyes. “Would hate for you to get eaten by a wild cat.”

“Wild cat?” she frowned, suddenly alarmed. “Are you joking or are there really wild animals roaming the streets at night?”

For a moment his face remained schooled in an unreadable mask and then he snorted. “Don’t worry, princess. They don’t come so close to town and even if they did… They’d be more frightened of you than you’d be of them.”

“I _highly_ doubt that.” she winced but she locked her arms around his, hugging it close to her chest, and sneaked one of her hands in his pocket where his already was. It was a tight fit and he didn’t quite seem to know what to do at first, which made her rethink her spontaneous move. After a couple of seconds, he closed his hand on her frozen fingers though. They walked mostly in silence after that, until they reached the door of Aster’s cottage. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other and shifting their weight on their feet, their breaths forming puffy white clouds in the air… It was Effie who rolled her eyes first. “Would you like to come in?”

“Now, who’s presumptuous?” he taunted, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, if you would rather not…” she huffed and turned around, fishing the keys in her purse.

Arms wrapped around her waist and his strong chest was plastered to her back well before she even reached the keyhole. His mouth descended on her neck, hot on her skin chilled by the winter air, his tongue licked the same spot he had tortured the previous night only to close his teeth on her flesh a moment later… She yelped, a tinge of pain mixing with arousal… He pressed a kiss on it as a silent apology and let his lips trail up, forcing her to tilt her head as he nuzzled the underside of her jaw… The feel of his stubble on her soft skin…

She couldn’t get the key in.

Her heart was thumping in her chest, her hands were trembling, and all she wanted was to turn around and to kiss him properly.

She blindly reached out behind her, coiling her hand around his nape, trying to focus on the uncooperative key…

In the end, his fingers guided hers and he unlocked the door with a slow chuckle in her ear that made her shiver with anticipation. She turned around this time, grabbed the lapels of his coat and tugged him inside, walking backward, pulling hard until his mouth crashed on hers, until they fell against the wall… Her shoulder took the blunt of it and the jolt of pain made her groan in his mouth but she didn’t stop long enough to wonder if it would leave lasting damages. They were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, blindly stumbling in the vague direction of the living-room…

She was struggling to pass his sweater and undershirt over his head, eager to kiss him again, when the back of her thighs hit the couch’s armrest. Her navy blue bra was unclasped and he pushed her, a hand on her shoulder blade and the other on the back of the couch to cushion the fall. She crawled back, pulling him on her, rejoicing in his heavy weight on top of her… He fumbled between them to slip her bra off, immediately palming her breast, dropping a couple of kisses on her chin and jaw only to lower his mouth to her chest…

She arched her back, her legs automatically falling open, cradling his body closer…

“Too many clothes.” she complained, her nails digging in his shoulder…

He pushed himself up and there was something to be said about the sight of him kneeling between her thighs… He stood up long enough to get her – expensive – skinny jeans off her. The fabric had left marks on her pale skin but she didn’t even mind, not when he was kicking off his own pants and rolling a condom on himself.

He didn’t ask if she was ready and he barely touched her before entering her, probably as impatient as she was, but she didn’t mind it rough and she gave as good as she got. She wasn’t sure how to call what they were doing… Having sex, _fucking_ … But he hissed when she scratched his back and he groaned when she sunk her teeth in his neck, and those sounds were a sweet revenge to the whimpers he got out of her through his powerful punishing thrusts…

She didn’t know how they rolled off the couch.

One moment they were at it so hard the couch was protesting under them, the next they were on the floor, she was on top and he had the breath knocked out of him. It didn’t stop her from rocking her hips. She adjusted to the new position easily enough. Until he rolled her under him, knocking the coffee table back in his haste…

She would be bruised black and blue the next day but she couldn’t even begin to care.

She could tell he was close so she slipped her hand between their bodies and stroke herself, pleasantly surprised when she felt his fingers join hers. Her climax hit her fast and hard. She cried out without an ounce of self-consciousness.

A few rocking of his hips later, he joined her over the edge, panting hard against her shoulder.

Their mouth found each other without real conscious thought on their part and they kissed until the automatic rocking of his hips stopped and he rolled off her, still short of breath.

The rug was old and a bit itchy on her naked sweaty skin. She didn’t really think before hooking her leg over his hips and straddling him, letting her hand roam on his chest like she hadn’t really had an opportunity to do yet. There were muscles but no real abs to speak of. There was the beginning of a pouch on his stomach but nothing really problematic as far as she was concerned. He looked good. Good enough that her mouth watered with _want_ again.

His hands had shot to her thighs as soon as she had straddled him and he looked a bit tense to her. He was watching her with rapt attention as if she was likely to try and strangle him. Her fingers trailed on the planes of his chest, circling a nipple only to run down to the thin pale line of blond hairs leading to… She peeled the used condom off him, knotted it neatly and placed it on the coffee table for later disposal, rather pleased to note the simple caress had been enough to make him twitch. She switched tracks though, keeping that for later, her hand covered the big swollen scar on his side, shocked to realize it was longer than her hand.

Whatever it was that had left that kind of marks, it must have hurt. A lot.

“Were you really a spy?” she whispered.

He laughed. A low drowsy rumble of a sound that brought a smile to her lips. She hadn’t heard him laugh yet. Not even with his friends. She confusedly sensed it was rare for him to do so.

“You’re so gullible, sweetheart…” he teased.

She pouted in annoyance and he rolled his eyes. “What is it you do then? Aside for having sex with strangers who lived in your friend’s house?”

“I raise geese.” he shrugged.

“Geese.” she repeated, flabbergasted. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. At all. And it wasn’t really… _Glamorous_.

“Yeah.” he confirmed, his fingers drumming on her thighs as if he was hitching to push her off him. “Just have a small gaggle, mind. I sell the eggs mostly. The birds are more like pets.”

“And…” she hesitated. “Is that a lucrative business?”

“It makes _shit_.” he answered. “But I don’t really need the money anyway. Got more than I need.” She frowned and he waved the question away. “I was in the army with Chaff, Finnick and Jo.”

“Oh.” she breathed out. “I figured out you had been working together.”

“Clever girl.” he smirked, openly taunting, but the humor didn’t last long. The shadow was back on his face and the spark in his eyes had dimmed a bit. It told her there was more to the story than that. With the scars on his body and the general attitude of the group… She had seen enough movies to guess he had been involved in something a little bit more complicated than _just_ being a soldier in the army. Black ops, perhaps. As if he was reading her thoughts, he flipped them over, making her yelp in surprise. “Don’t like talking about that. You’re thinking too much for someone I just _fucked_. Maybe you need some more attention, sweetheart…”

He planted a kiss between her breasts and slid down to nuzzle her stomach, sending a jolt of anticipation through her body because, if it had been a while since her last affair, it had been even longer since anyone had done _that_.

“Can we go upstairs?” she asked, as he nudged her legs open. “It is cold…”

And as much as she enjoyed frantic sex up a wall or on the floor, she also liked her comfort and a bed sounded appealing.

“Course, it’s cold.” he scoffed, pressing a kiss to her mount before pushing himself to his feet to walk to the fireplace. “The heating’s not enough in December. You need to build a fire, sweetheart.”

She didn’t bother explaining she had not a single clue how to do that. She preferred enjoying the view. She was a bit worried he would hurt himself doing that naked but he managed well enough and when he stood up from his crouch, the fire roaring behind him, she couldn’t help but lick her lips. The flames tossed shadows on his body, accentuating some lines and making him look _very_ appealing indeed.

“You are a very sexy man.” she hummed.

He snorted, outstretching a hand to haul her up to her feet. “Says the woman gorgeous enough to be a model.” She grinned, pleased with that assessment, and entwined their fingers to tug him up the stairs. He wasn’t done though. “Actress isn’t so bad, I guess…” She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyebrows lifted in a silent question. He shrugged. “Ripper spilled the beans. Wanted to know what I was doing being friends with _Effie Trinket_ like it meant _shit_ … How famous are you anyway?”

She hesitated and then shrugged right back. “I used to be very famous. I was surprised you did not recognize me.”

“Can’t say I’m big on following celebrities, sweetheart.” he dismissed. “You should have said if it was important.”

“It wasn’t. I prefer it this way actually.” she replied. “Believe it or not, it has been a while since anyone has liked me for _me_.”

“I like you for your ass.” he smirked, trapping her in his arms as they reached the room she had claimed for herself. She laughed when he tossed her on the bed. “And maybe for your sass. Where were we? Ah, _yeah_ …”

He kneeled next to the bed and hooked her legs over his shoulders, going straight to business.

He had a talented tongue and even more talented fingers.

It was almost embarrassing how little it took for her second climax to wash over her.

“Condom?” he asked.

“Suitcase.” she mumbled, still half lost to bliss. Her body was tingling.

When he passed her legs over his shoulders again, grabbed her upper arms, and easily slid home, she didn’t think she could come a third time.

She was wrong.

He had a gift for making her body wriggle and beg for more.

She came so hard she almost passed out.

She was barely conscious of the way he gently placed her legs down and haphazardly wrapped the blankets around them both once he was done. She snuggled against his side, seeking his warmth, and then she was dead to the world.

He was still there when she woke up the next morning and it surprised her because she would have thought he would have sneaked out. Perhaps he had been just as exhausted as she had been. He was still snoring when she left the bed and hadn’t yet emerged when she eventually walked out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day.

She was fifteen minutes in trying to cook breakfast when she finally heard him coming down the stairs and sneaking to the living-room – to get his clothes, she assumed. He looked a bit awkward when he leaned against the kitchen’s doorframe.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep last night.”

“It’s alright.” she dismissed with a smile, offering him the pan. “Do you want some charred eggs?” His lips twitched in amusement but he rubbed the back of his neck. He was so obviously uncomfortable that she found it kinder to put him out of his misery. “You should relax, Haymitch. I won’t fall in love with you.”

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, clearly not having expected that kind of statement.

“Thanks?” he snorted.

She rolled her eyes and turned off the stove, staring at the burned eggs rather than at him. “I was thinking… If you are agreeable that is… Perhaps we could have a one-holidays-stand, so to speak… No strings attached. I am here for two weeks… We could… Get together sometimes.  And at the end of my stay we both go our own way.”

He studied her, his face a blank mask she didn’t know how to read. He had yet to make a sound when his phone rang. He checked the screen and made a face. “Sorry, I have to…”

She waved her hand. “Of course.”

He stepped in the corridor but the walls were thin and it did little to prevent her from hearing him. “Hey, sweetheart… Yeah, I slept at Chaff’s… Nah, just drank a bit too much, that’s all. I know I’m supposed to call when I don’t come home. Wasn’t exactly planned, was it? Tell her I’ll be here soon, she can save me some breakfast.” She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that conversation and she plastered a mindless smile on her lips, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing when he came back in the kitchen. “Gotta go. I’ve got to meet someone for breakfast.”

“I see.” she said, feeling her cheeks flushing red. How stupid had she been to think he was single? He probably had a wife and children waiting at home. She was stupid. _Utterly_ stupid. One of those cliché parts she hated to play.

“Not that it’s any of your business but nothing like _that_.” he snorted, walking close enough to nudge her chin in his direction. He planted a kiss on her mouth. “I’m all yours for now.”

She stood a little straighter, unable to swallow back her pleased hum. His eyes darted to her lips and, this time, the kiss was hungry. She found herself with her back to the counter and felt him fumble around, probably trying to lift her up on it…

“You will be late.” she whispered, half hoping it was an appointment he wouldn’t mind missing.

He broke the kiss with a sigh though, briefly resting his forehead against hers. “Yeah. Right.”

“You could come back tonight.” she suggested hopefully. “I am meeting Annie for coffee but later on I should be free…”

“Can’t tonight.” he scowled with obvious regret. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” she hurried in agreeing. “You can help me decorate the house. It needs a little Christmas cheer and I have no idea where to find a tree…”

“The woods behind the house are a good place to start looking.” he mocked.

“As if I was going to chop down my own tree.” she scoffed.

“If I get you a tree… What are _you_ gonna get _me_?” he challenged with a smirk.

She pressed herself closer to him. “What do you want?” He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip, not quite wording it but she got the drift. She closed her teeth around his thumb, slowly scraping them along its length. His pupils were blown and she could feel him becoming hard against her stomach. She grinned. “Deal.”

“You are playing with fire, sweetheart.” he warned. “Careful not to get burned.”

“You are still late.” she reminded him.

“You’re not making it easy for me to leave.” he snorted. “Giving me boners… Thought you were supposed to be all manners, _Princess_?”

She shook her head, swallowing back her laugh, and pushed him away. “I will see you tomorrow.”

He really seemed to have troubles leaving her behind after that innuendo and it put a smile on her face for the whole day. Meeting up with Annie was an added bonus because the young woman was sweet even if she tended to space out sometimes. Effie felt an instant connection with the girl and she planned on nurturing that friendship after she went back to California.

Her good mood started faltering in the evening though.

Without any distraction, the problems she had run away from kept pushing at the front of her mind. She tried taking a stroll – now wary of a possible encounter with a wild cat – but it did little to ease her worries even if The Seam was strangely peaceful at night. She stopped by the bar – _not_ because she was bored and kind of hoped Haymitch would be around but because she wanted company – and went home after half a glass of tepid white wine.

It would have been a lie to say she wasn’t disappointed.

Portia’s phone call distracted her for a while. Her friend was stuck in a party that she claimed to be boring – although _very loud_ , Effie could hear the beat of the music – and demanded to be told everything about her vacation. She tried to stick to safe subjects but she wasn’t overly surprised when her best friend picked up something odd either from her tone or her deflections. She ended up explaining the whole thing.

“ _Give me the dirty details then_.” Portia rebuked. “ _Is he good?”_ Effie licked her lips, closed her eyes and sighed, prompting her friend to giggle. _“That good? Maybe you should bring him back with you, then.”_

She didn’t even let herself entertain the thought. That city tainted everyone it touched and even if he hadn’t really shared his past, she felt Haymitch had been through too much already.

“It is just for the holidays.” she reminded Portia. And herself.

_‘Of course, of course…”_ her friend humored her in a way that made her think she wasn’t believing a word of it.

Effie huffed and switched topics until she heard Cinna reminding her that they were supposed to mingle and try to get contracts, not spend the whole night on the phone. She said her goodnight and went to bed but she didn’t sleep that well.

She kept thinking about her dying career and what she could do about it.

When morning came, she still had no solution but she had a headache.

 


	3. Rocking' Around The Christmas Tree

**_3 – Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree_ **

She and Haymitch hadn’t fixed an hour and she told herself she wouldn’t wait around like a desperate love struck – or _lust_ struck rather – teenager. And yet, it was exactly what she did. She sat in the kitchen, drank cup of coffee after cup of coffee and impatiently drummed on the hot ceramic of the mug.

He showed up around ten a.m., took one look at her and shook his head. “You’re gonna freeze your ass off.”

She pouted. “If it is the price to pay to look good…”

“Let’s see how good you look with a runny nose and a case of frostbite.” he mocked, taking off his frayed scarf to wrap it around her throat. It didn’t go at all with her pink trenchcoat but she didn’t protest because she found the gesture sweet.

“Where are we going to find a tree?” she asked, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet in her enthusiasm. She _loved_ Christmas decorating.

“Told you.” he frowned. “The woods.”

“You were joking.” she protested, suddenly not so sure.

He lifted his eyebrows. “May wanna change those shoes, sweetheart.”

She switched her louboutins for a borrowed pair of sturdy boots she found in a cupboard just in case he wasn’t.

And it soon turned out he _wasn’t_.

A short drive in his old battered pick-up later, they pulled over in a part of the woods that seemed to be reserved for this particular purpose.

“There are some nice ones over there.” he said pointing to her left. “Not too big. Got one of those yesterday.”

She wasn’t really surprised to find that Johanna was in charge of the area. Somehow, the woman looked like she belonged with an axe in her hand. Effie paid the fees and asked how much more it would be for them to get one already chopped off. Jo outright laughed in her face.

“Sorry, movie stars do it like everyone else around here…” the young woman sneered. “But, hey, you can borrow my axe… I wanna see how long you go before cutting off one of your limbs…”

“I’m doing the chopping.” Haymitch grumbled. “And I’ve got my axe, thanks.”

He had an axe in the back of the pick-up as well as ropes and everything needed to move a tree from the woods to a house.

She didn’t know if she was stunned, a bit scared, or aroused.

He steered her in the direction of reasonably tall trees and told her to take her pick. She chose one of the smallest and watched, standing back, as he took off his coat and started chopping.

_Definitely arousing,_ then.

She sent a short video to Portia through snapchat while his back was turned and got a hasty blurry picture of a half empty cup of coffee in answer with the caption _“I NEED SOME OF THAT”._

Effie’s grin was smug. He _was_ hot. And for the time being he was _hers_.

He stretched when the tree finally fell and she took the opportunity to slip a hand in the back pocket of his jeans when she handed him his coat back. “Now I will fantasize about lumberjacks.”

He rolled his eyes at her but she didn’t miss the smirk.

She wasn’t so chirpy after that. Getting the tree to the car and then settling it in the living-room was a nightmare and they fought so hard she thought he would storm out at one point. He stomped his feet when he went to get the decoration boxes from the attic – at least he claimed that was where they were – and he was still glaring when he came down. It suited her just fine, she was still sulking over the _blonde_ off-hand comment he had tossed her way when she hadn’t been quick enough to understand what he wanted to do.

“You can quit the attitude any second.” he grumbled. “You’re worse than a _fucking_ kid. Spoiled brat.”

She shot him a dark look, her lips pursed so hard it almost hurt. “You are _rude_ and _insensitive_ and, _truly_ , I _ought_ to kick you out.”

“Try.” he challenged.

She wasn’t quite sure how they went from glaring at each other to rolling on the rug in front of the fireplace again but they _did_ get there. She pushed him on his back but didn’t get to stay on top more than ten seconds before he had her under him, her wrists trapped over her head, very much at his mercy…

And he made her beg for it.

She resisted as long as she could.

She insulted him.

She even tried to hit him to get him to _finally_ fuck her.

He only relented and gave her what she wanted once she had _pleaded_ for it.

And he looked far too smug about making her cave.

_Insufferable idiot._

She promised herself she would get her revenge later on.

They ordered a pizza for late lunch and she protested when he went to open the door wearing his underwear and nothing else but he didn’t seem bothered at all by his state of undress. They ate it without plates or covers, still half naked, sitting in front of the fire like hooligans. Effie was partly thrilled and partly horrified by such behavior, still a bit cranky about the fight but also too content to remain angry for long.

She slipped on his undershirt after a while, to his obvious amusement, and struggled with hooking her phone to the old stereo system in the corner of the living-room, only happy when it started playing Christmas songs. She distractedly danced around the room a little, opening boxes and inspecting the decorations at her disposal, getting a start on the tree…

She was vaguely aware of his eyes tracking her but didn’t pay it any mind because she was having fun.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to help me?” she asked eventually, after having checked he wasn’t eating anymore.

“I don’t know, sweetheart…” he smirked. “I kinda like the view.”

She whipped his shoulder with a golden tinsel, prompting it to grab it and pull. She stumbled forward with a small shriek and landed on his lap. Soon, she was laughing and answering his kisses and everything was right in the world.

“Aren’t you tired of me yet?” she teased.

His hand sneaked up her leg and under her – _his_ – long-sleeved grey shirt.

“You’re so hot… There’s really anyone who can get tired of you?” he joked.

It hit a little too close to home.

She ran her fingers in his hair, pecked his lips and then escaped his arms, pretending to focus on the tree. He seemed to realize he had said something wrong but didn’t pursue it. After some coaxing on her part, he consented to get up and help her.

It was fun.

He grumbled all along about Christmas obsessed people, about how there was too much glitter on those baubles and how it stuck to his palms for hours, about the irritating Christmas songs… A regular Ebenezer Scrooge – and given that they never bothered getting dressed, it was an amusing sight.

It was late by the time she declared herself satisfied with her decoration project. The house had been taken over by a Christmas storm and, to be honest, she was surprised he had humored her that long. She asked him if he wanted her to order something for dinner but he checked his watch and made a face.

“Need to head back.” he said.

“Oh.” Her smile faltered but she forced it right back on her lips, taking on a purring tone. “You did not get your reward…”

“Gives me a reason to come back tomorrow…” he retorted, putting his pants back on. He snatched his sweater from the floor and put it on without asking for his undershirt, either not caring or in a hurry. She walked him back to the door and raised on tip-toes to kiss him goodbye. He looked a bit reluctant to go but sighed. “Tomorrow night, yeah?”

“It is a date.” she grinned and immediately winced. “Well, not a _date_ but…”

“Yeah.” he snorted. “Got you.”

She was a bit bereft once he was gone. She busied herself with taking out the empty pizza boxes to the trash and doing some cleaning around the house.

She went for a jog the next morning but couldn’t avoid taking her mother’s call any longer, given the voicemails threatening to report her disappearance to the authorities if she didn’t pick her – good publicity, according to her. Elindra Trinket had nothing to say Effie didn’t already know about. Something needed to be done about her career, she shouldn’t have left town like that because _what would people think_ , she needed to be reasonable and accept that she would never be number one, she needed to check her ambitions and accept the reality TV proposal, she needed to let Elindra get her a contract with the soap opera she had been working on for twenty years…

The idea of opening her house and putting a show of her private life for cameras was making her sick to her stomach. Perhaps she would have done it when she was younger but not now. Now she was tired of the whole hypocrisy of it all. As for letting her mother find her a job in a soap opera? It was a public admission of defeat she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

She gloomily spent the day trying to track down her manager in the vague hope that something would have come up, absentmindedly sketching dresses on a pad of paper. It was no surprise that no miracle had happened. She was still unwanted. Too old, not popular enough, too _past celebrity_.

She wasn’t in a very good mood when Haymitch showed up, letting himself in like it was absolutely appropriate for him to do so – poor show of manners, as she pointed out.

He took one look at her and frowned. “What’s up with you, then?”

She waved that away and ducked her head to hide the tears burning her eyes. She briefly clenched her jaw and when she looked up her eyes were simply bright and there was a beaming smile on her lips.

“Would you care for some wine?” she asked.

“Yeah.” he shrugged, still frowning, as if not quite fooled by her act. She must be losing her touch. He lifted the white paper bag he had been carrying. “Got food from _Greasy Sae_ ’s. Figured you would be starving what with you not being able to boil water and all…”

“I know how to boil water.” she hissed, snatching the bag from his hand and storming to the kitchen, more annoyed than the remark truly warranted. She _barely_ knew how to boil water. Plates and glasses clang as she took them out of their respective cupboards and slammed them on the table.

“Effie, what happened?” he asked from the doorframe, hands in his pockets. The very picture of casualness. As if her world wasn’t crumbling. As if…

“Nothing.” she snapped. “Do you want to eat in here or in the living-room? Never mind that… You will want to eat on the couch. Why eat at a table like civilized people…”

He clenched his jaw. “If you’re going to act like a _bitch_ all night…”

“Oh, am I acting like a _bitch_?” she growled. “My apologies if I am not rainbow and sunshine all the time. My apologies for being _human_ , Haymitch. Should I just get down on my knees and open my mouth then? _That_ is why you are here, isn’t it?”

She was being unfair, she knew that. He had brought her food – and _good_ food by the smell of it – and he was under no obligation to do that.

“Look…” he said slowly. “You wanna talk about it, we can talk about it. You wanna _fuck_ it out, we can _fuck_ it out. But I ain’t gonna do the passive aggressive _shit_.” His grey eyes hardened. “I’m gonna go. Give me a call tomorrow if you’ve calmed down.”

She took too long to decide if she was angry with him or with herself. He was halfway to the front door when she grabbed his arm.

“I am sorry.” she whispered. “I am _sorry_. I behaved atrociously. You did nothing to deserve this and…” She took a deep breath. “Please, _stay_.”

He took a deep irritated breath and she didn’t dare meet his gaze, half-certain he would leave anyway. This was supposed to be _easy_ , a _casual_ affair. She wasn’t supposed to burden him with her feelings and to spoil their time together with her problems.

He brushed her blond hair back and cupped her cheek, still sounding a bit annoyed. “Gonna tell me why you’re so upset?”

“I am not upset.” she denied softly. “I am just _tired_.”

It wasn’t a lie. She was tired. Tired of the uncertainty of her life, tired to have to fight every minute to try to go back on top when it was clear she was back at the bottom of the mountain.

“Okay.” he said. “I can go. We don’t have to…”

“Stay.” she requested quietly. “Have dinner with me. We can watch a movie or something…”

It sounded dangerously close to a date and he must have had the same thought because he looked a bit wary when he nodded his agreement.

They did end up on the couch with their plates and their glasses of wine. She left him in charge of the remote as an apology, telling him he could choose what to watch.

With her luck, _of course_ , one of her movies was on.

When he realized the twenty-something woman on the screen was her, there was no deterring him from leaving it on. _The Game Maker_ belonged to her golden age as far as movies were concerned but Seneca had been her co-lead and it was reason enough for her to focus on the food rather than on the story. The fact that she didn’t really look like she had thirteen years earlier wasn’t helping either…

“Isn’t that guy dead?” he asked after half an hour, with a small frown.

She hadn’t really been following the movie, having long discarded her still half full plate for her glass of wine and the notepad on which she was distractedly sketching, as always when she was trying not to think about a particular problem. She had her legs on Haymitch’s lap and his plate was balanced on her shins so she looked up at him first and then at the screen, trying to figure out when they were at in the story. It took a moment to realize he wasn’t talking about a particular character but about _Seneca Crane_. 

“He died a few years ago.” she confirmed, still feeling that tinge of sadness. Her relationship with Seneca hadn’t always been perfect and it hadn’t ended on a good note but they had been good together for the time it had lasted. He had made her happy.

“Sorry.” Haymitch winced, apparently having realized his blunder. “You were friends?”

She almost burst out laughing because she didn’t think there was a soul on this Earth that didn’t know they had been together. They had been _it_ in their youth. The golden couple. The new Bogart and Bacall.

Quick calculations told her he had probably been in the army around that time though, maybe abroad, maybe having more pressing worries than which movie stars were banging.

“We were in a relationship for three years.” she stated simply. “It was a long time ago, though.”

She glanced at the screen, on which her younger self was challenging a young Seneca, and she couldn’t help but think they had been beautiful together. A _dream_.

But dreams weren’t meant to last.

Haymitch looked even more awkward now. He leaned in to put his empty plate on the coffee table and grab the remote. “We don’t have to watch it…”

“I do not mind.” she dismissed. “As I said, it was a long time ago.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering between the remote and his glass. He eventually grabbed the glass and settled back against the couch’s cushion, his free hand loosely coiled around her ankle.

She went back to her sketching, frustrated by the fold of a bustier dress she couldn’t quite nail down. She was so focused on getting it right, she didn’t immediately feel his stare on her. She looked up guiltily, thinking he might be annoyed that she was spending the night doing something in her corner instead of doing what he came for.

He didn’t look annoyed though, just curious. “What are you doing?”

“Oh… Nothing.” she flushed crimson. “It is just a stupid hobby.” She had been sketching clothes for as long as she could remember but the only times she had ventured showing them to someone, they had always made fun of them. It relaxed her though. “I have no real talent for it, I am afraid.”

She laughed it off, closing the pad, intending to place it aside for the time being… She wasn’t counting on his outstretched hand. “Show me.” It was in between an order and a question and she gave him the notepad, bracing herself for the unavoidable mockery. He flicked through the pages, smirking at some of the most eccentric pieces. “You’re good.”

It wasn’t what she was expecting and thus she scoffed, disbelieving. “Do not be preposterous.”

“I know _shit_ about fashion.” he shrugged. “But the drawings look good.”

She remained silent when he handed it back, not quite sure what to do with that compliment. She wasn’t used to having her sketches praised. 

“Thank you.” she said quietly after a few seconds.

He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed, and he started watching the movie again. She abandoned the dress and started sketching a tux. Something he would look good in. She tried to stop her mind from wandering to premieres and red carpets and how good they would have looked together on one of those…

She flinched when Seneca’s character said _I love you_. She had known it was coming but she hadn’t been paying attention and the way he said it… There was that very same genuine inflection in it as there used to be when he whispered it against her neck. She wasn’t sure he had ever truly meant those words just like she wasn’t sure she had meant it when she had offered them back. They had both been too much in love with _themselves_ to truly love anyone else back then…

Haymitch’s hand was running up and down her leg in a soothing fashion she wasn’t sure he was conscious of. Until he talked, that was, his eyes straight on the screen, his voice hard.

“I lost people too.” he said. She remained silent, confusedly sensing that anything she could answer wouldn’t be enough, that he rarely if ever talked about that and that it wouldn’t take much for him to close off again. “My family. My girlfriend. I was deployed when they died. Accident. Well… _Oversight_. Gas leak. The fire took down a whole block.” His jaw was clenched and he downed what was left of his wine, still not looking at her. “I’ve seen so much bad stuff in the army… There are some _twisted_ _assholes_ out there. _They_ don’t get what they deserve ‘cause they’ve got money. They’ve got…” He shook his head. “My family, they were good people. They didn’t deserve it.” She slowly reached for his hand. His whole body tensed when she made contact but he didn’t recoil so she ran her thumb on his knuckles with no hope of comforting him from what seemed to be a still painful wound. He swallowed with obvious difficulties. “I try not to get attached to people as a rule. People are too fragile. They die too easily.”

It seemed like a difficult way to live one life. A waste, too.

“You do not always get to choose.” she pointed out.

“Yeah.” he snorted bitterly, as if there was some irony there she couldn’t see. “Too _fucking_ true.” He looked at her and she figured that line of conversation was over. She didn’t want to push too much. It had been clear to her from the start he was a very private man and she had never expected for him to confide that much. He turned his hand so they were palm to palm. “So, what kind of movie you’re doing next?”

She didn’t think he was particularly interested, more likely asking to change the subject, and she could have deflected just like she had been deflecting with everyone else for months.

“I do not think there will be a next movie.” It was the first time she admitted as much aloud.

It was one think to think it, it was another to hear herself say it. He frowned, clearly disturbed by how shiny her eyes suddenly looked again, but she blinked away the sadness and forced herself to smile as if she was excited about the prospect instead of completely terrified.

It wasn’t the perspective of finding herself out of a job. She had money. She had more money than she knew what to do with, she had always dutifully followed her father’s advice about investing in different companies to the point she had built herself an empire. It was the perspective of not having a goal, of not being passionate about something, about becoming one of those women who spent their day doing nothing but waste their savings, pretending they were still what they used to be in their youth… She didn’t have a family and she was getting dangerously close to the expiry date on that front…

It was frightening to realize that for all her past glory and her wealth, she had _nothing_. 

“Why?” he asked, a bit cautious. “You’re good.”

He said it as if it was even a question. She _knew_ she was good.

“I am afraid the industry is rather done with me.” she replied. “I am simply too old and not beautiful enough anymore.”

“ _Bullshit_.” he scoffed. “You can’t be much more than thirty…”

“Thirty-five.” she muttered, not that he listened.

“And you’re _fucking_ gorgeous…” he insisted. “The _fuck_ else they want? You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever _fucking_ seen…”

“Your language is _atrocious_.” she chuckled.

He shook his head, studying her with incredulity. “The world’s going _fucking_ mad, sweetheart… If they think you’re not good enough, _screw_ them. You’re better than them anyway.” She swung her legs off his lap to grab the remote and switch the TV off. He watched as she slowly nudged his legs open and lowered herself between them… When she reached for his belt, he stopped her by brushing her hair back. “Didn’t say any of that to get into your pants, Effie…”

“I know.” she promised. “Which is why you are getting a treat…”

He didn’t try to stop her anymore after that. Not when she opened his pants, not when she pushed his shirt up to playfully lick up his stomach and not when she palmed him through his boxer. His grey eyes remained on her even as his breathing started to quicken, and she eventually took pity on him and told him to lift his hips. She pushed pants and underwear down, letting him spring up to attention.

She licked her lips, eyeing her prize, designing the best plan of battle… There were so many things she wanted to do with him… There was time yet but not as much as she would have liked. She would leave in ten days. Ten days didn’t look like enough.

“Do we need a condom?” she asked suddenly, looking up at him. He looked a bit lust struck already and she nipped at his knee to make him focus. She didn’t like doing that as much with a condom but she wasn’t reckless enough to risk catching anything, no matter how handsome the man. “Haymitch, are you clean?”

“Clean.” he repeated, mumbling the word. “Clean, yeah. Got tested not long ago. I’m always safe anyway.”

“A commendable habit.” she grinned, taking him in hand, making him groan.

She hadn’t had any real opportunity to play with him yet, not like she wanted to at least, and she gave an experimental tug, trying to figure out what he would like best.

“Never been with a woman enough times for it to even be a question.” he muttered. “Not since…” His voice trailed off and she figured he meant not since his dead girlfriend. She distracted him from that thought by poking his head with her tongue. His attention came back to her, _sharp_. “You? You’re clean?”

“A very rude question to ask a woman so directly.” she teased, biting down on his inner thigh as a rebuke. “But, yes, I am clean. We do not need to worry about that. If you want to.”

It had been five days after all. A bit early, perhaps.

“You’re on the pill, yeah?” he frowned, too coherent for her liking.

“I have a contraceptive implant.” she countered. “We are covered.”

He wrinkled his nose. “You’re sure those things work?”

“Very sure. Now, _hush_.” she chided him, wrapping her lips around him like she had wanted to do for some time now.

She teased him for a while, dropping kisses on his length and poking him with her tongue from time to time. His fingers ended up tangled in her hair and he nudged her down, probably frustrated to death. His breathing was quick and his cheeks were flushed.

“You should lose the sweater.” she taunted. “You are going to have a stroke.”

She expected an argument but he simply did as he was told and, truly, having him naked and at her mercy was _glorious_.

“Can you…” he waved at her chest and she took off her own top before unclasping her bra, giving him the show he wanted.

She was rewarded by his short intake of breath.

She stopped playing then. She kept her eyes locked with his as she slowly lowered her head down again, _finally_ properly sucking him in.

“Sweet _fucking_ …” he growled, his hips buckling.

His fingers tangled in her hair again, out of reflex probably, and he tried to keep her in place, to take control, to _fuck_ her mouth, but that wasn’t how she wanted to play it and she grabbed his left wrist, scrapping her teeth along his length as a friendly warning.

He _wisely_ loosened his grip.

He wasn’t the most vocal person in bed, she had observed, and so she took great pleasure in the profanities that sprouted out of his mouth. She slowed down every time she felt him about to come. She played him like a violin.

And she had so much fun it should have been forbidden.

Which was why she was taken aback when he pulled her upright.

“What…” she started, afraid she had done something wrong. He didn’t let her time to finish, he almost tore the leggings off her body in his hurry and tugged on the back of her thighs until she was straddling him. He quickly stroke her, making sure she was ready – which she _was_ because she had thoroughly enjoyed the noises he had been making – and then guided himself inside her with a relieved groan. It was different without a condom and she let out a moan of her own. His fingers were digging in her hips, imposing them a hard frantic rhythm that she had trouble following.

She wasn’t surprised when he came and she wasn’t really surprised that he immediately slumped against the back of the couch, completely spent.

She didn’t get to come but she decided she would give him a pass this time.

“I’ll make it up to you.” he mumbled sleepily as she slid to the side.

“You better.” she giggled, not protesting when he sneaked an arm around her and brought her close.

They ended up lying down on the couch, legs tangled together, her head cushioned on his shoulder. He started snoring after five minutes and she was left pondering if it would be rude to give back Aster’s couch in the state it now was in – never mind the rug. She wondered what the woman would think if she purchased new ones for her… She could always lie and say she had spilled wine.

But doing so implied leaving and leaving wasn’t a thought she wanted to entertain when she felt so comfortable and safe in Haymitch’s arms.

She woke up to bliss. She was confused for a second, up until she realized there was a hand between her legs, slowly coaxing her awake. Haymitch pressed a kiss against her neck, his touch still light but arousing enough that she couldn’t help a sleepy whimper.

“Alright?” he asked, probably because he had started touching her when she had been asleep.

“Do not be stupid.” she retorted, opening her legs wider. She had nothing against being awaken like that as long as it was a partner she trusted.

She couldn’t have been asleep long, she mused, as he dropped kisses down her body. The fire was still going and it was still dark. A glance at the modem next to the TV confirmed it was barely past midnight.

Revenge was clearly a dish best served cold.

He took great pleasure at repaying her earliest tortures in kind. The delayed orgasm was even better and she felt so completely _fucked_ when he was done with her that she was ready to go back to sleep right away. She tried to pull him up because it was becoming chilly without his warmth but he only consented to a few kisses.

“Need to go.” he mumbled, snatching his clothes from the floor. “It’s late.”

“You can stay.” she hummed. “You _should_ stay. I will be cold if you do not warm me up…”

He snorted, buckled his belt, and placed the blanket, that had been tossed on the back of an armchair at some point, over her body.

“Can’t tonight. Go to sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered. She felt his lips on her forehead but she was already going under.

 


	4. Put A Little Holiday In Your Heart

She woke up early the next morning, her teeth chattering. The fire had died during the night and it wasn’t really the right time of the year to sleep naked. She wrapped herself in the blanket and hurried to the bathroom, turning the shower on without a second thought.

She let the hot water stream down on her body, not doing much of anything but letting it warm her up. She might have drifted off again because suddenly she startled, not quite sure what had alarmed her. She berated herself for being an idiot and squeezed the shampoo bottle, massaging her scalp with a small sigh.

Of course, she absolutely freaked out and screamed at the top of her lungs when the bathroom’s door was pushed open, and it took a few minutes for Haymitch’s voice to get through to her. When she realized she wasn’t about to get murdered or worse, she grew very mad. Heart pounding in her chest, she grabbed her towel and swat him with it until he managed to grab it and tug her closer to his body. He trapped her in his arms and she pouted.

“Are you done?” he grumbled.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” she snapped. “I have had _stalkers_ before, you know. It is _scary_.”

She buried her face in his shirt, a bit aware that she was soaking wet and his clothes weren’t exactly dry anymore. She had had a scare though. So he wouldn’t be allowed to complain.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered reluctantly. “Didn’t mean to scare you… I knocked.”

“I was in the shower.” she retorted. “I didn’t hear.”

“Figured. So I let myself in.” he shrugged awkwardly, cradling the back of her head and then shaking the shampoo off his hand.

She rolled her eyes and stepped back in the shower, relieved to be under the hot water once more. “Join me, then.” He didn’t need to be told twice. His clothes were quickly discarded and he stepped under the stream with her. The relatively spacious shower suddenly felt smaller with him taking so much room. She was tiny compared to him without her heels and she loved the height difference. She loved the broad shoulders and the strong arms and thighs too. It made her feel safe. “It is early. What are you doing here?”

He watched her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair to get rid of the leftovers of shampoo.

“I woke up and I wanted you.” he confessed eventually, sounding a bit wary about it, as if not quite sure it was a good or a bad thing.

“You should just have slept here.” she sighed. “You could have had me before we even left the couch and I wouldn’t have been cold.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate being cold.”

“You walk around half naked all the time.” he mocked but his amusement vanished and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Can’t really _not_ go home out of the blue…”

“Because you have someone at home waiting for you?” she challenged and immediately regretted it. She grabbed the shampoo bottle to distract herself. “My apologies. That was unwarranted. We agreed it would be casual and you do not owe me _any_ explanation. It is none of my business what you…”

“It’s nothing like _that_.” he cut her off, a bit irritated. “I ain’t cheating on anyone with you. Told you. I don’t do complicated, I’m free. Just…” He hesitated. “I’ve got people depending on me, that’s all. I need to be available, yeah?”

“Of course.” she accepted meekly.

“Besides…” He let out a long breath and rubbed his neck. “Look, last time was a fluke. I never meant to fall asleep… I don’t share my bed with women.”

“Because you only do one-night-stands. I remember.” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. It is of no importance. I…”

“It’s not just that.” he interrupted again. “I’ve got…” He sighed again as if it was really hard for him to get it off his chest. “I’ve got bad dreams, Effie. Night terrors. I can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” she exclaimed, not having expected _that_. But with the scars on his body and his reluctance to mention his past, maybe she should have. “I am a light sleeper… I would wake up if you started thrashing… I mean… If you _hypothetically_ wanted to stay over… Sometimes…” She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t stop herself. “It is just… We have such a short time together… And…”

“It’s really safer for you if I leave.” he insisted.

“What should I do, though?” she frowned. “If you fall asleep and you have a nightmare?”

“Get out of bed.” he said at once. “ _Never_ touch me. Stay out of reach until you’re one hundred percent _sure_ I’m awake. You can toss stuff at me.” He shook his head. “Look, I’ve got enough baggage to…”

“I can handle it.” she claimed and then looked away. “For the duration of my stay, I mean.”

He bowed his head to nuzzle her neck, not quite meeting her eyes. “Maybe.”

She tangled her fingers in his hair and angled his head up to steal a burning kiss. “It takes a lot to scare me away, Haymitch.”

“ _That_ , I believe.” he smirked. “You’re too _fucking_ brave for your own good. Brave people are stupid.”

She bit down on his neck, right under his jaw, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Didn’t you come here because you wanted me?” she taunted. “One would think you would have taken me by now…”

She had barely finished her sentence when he turned her around, and she braced herself against the wall, feeling a thrill run down her spine. She had never really been the submissive type in bed but she couldn’t help but cave to his raw masculinity. She fought for control but was happy to relent in the end, the struggle was enough of a buzz for her, she could grant him dominance.

She arched her back when he tugged on her hair, forcing her to turn her head so he could kiss her while he relentlessly pounded into her from behind.

There was something to be said about starting the day with sex.

It made her cheerful.

They eventually made it out of the shower when the hot water turned icy, still kissing and touching like teenagers who couldn’t get enough of each other. She felt giddy and a bit ridiculous because she was too old to act that way. She still let him towel her dry and kiss the small bruises their bouts of lovemaking had left on her body. He was bearing her marks too. Lovebites here, scratches there…

She felt oddly pleased with the sight.

“You should say when I hurt you.” he grumbled when he spotted the finger shaped bruises on her hipbones from the previous night.

She stole the towel to rub his wet hair and planted a long kiss on his mouth, immediately parting her lips when she felt his tongue seeking entrance.

“I mark easily.” she mumbled between two kisses. “I am fine. We haven’t even gone _close_ to my limits yet.”

He chuckled in the middle of the next kiss. “Maybe it’s me who should be scared, sweetheart…”

“Maybe you should.” she grinned, letting her hand trail down his stomach.

She wasn’t sure they wouldn’t have gone for another round if her stomach hadn’t rumbled right then, bringing her back to more practical considerations like breakfast. He drew back, his grey eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Let’s get some food into you. You need your strength.” he declared.

“Oh? And why is that?” she asked, playing dumb.

“’Cause I’m gonna _fuck_ you over the kitchen table.” he shrugged. “And maybe on the counter too…” He shook his head, his smirk deepening even more. “I ain’t _ever_ going to be able to come back to this house.”

She laughed and the sound of it almost puzzled her.

She laughed a lot. She was a happy person, everybody always commented on that, and most of the time it was genuine but it was rarely so… _carefree_. Haymitch made her feel that way. As if her image didn’t matter, as if there was no immediate reason to worry about the rest of the world and what they would say, as if she was… _Someone else_.

Someone who hadn’t spent her whole childhood following her mother from audition to audition, someone who hadn’t grown up between movie sets, someone who had gone to homecomings and regular parties instead of award ceremonies and premieres…

If he was confused by the deep kiss she gave him then, he didn’t show it.

She put on the undershirt he had never asked back – and that she might have been using at night – and he didn’t bother with more than his boxers.

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

He cooked breakfast and she thoroughly distracted him by kissing him and letting her hands wander, up to the point he told her flat out that if she groped him again he was going to take her right there and there would be no breakfast.

He _did_ take her right there, on the counter, but she was allowed breakfast all the same afterwards, even if it was cold. 

They spent the whole day alternating between lounging around and having sex.

“I’m too old for this.” he snorted at some point. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

It was his own fault in her opinion.

He kept claiming he couldn’t go another round only to get aroused by something she said or did. She had never had sex under a Christmas tree before and she wondered if that counted as a Christmas present. She liked watching the twinkling lights from underneath. They looked like fireflies.

“But think what a sweet death it will be, darling…” she teased, pressing a kiss against his nipple. The skin right above it was reddish because she had been a little too enthusiastic with her teeth.

He didn’t stay the night but he was back the next morning, early enough that she met him just as she came back from her usual morning jog. Her running outfit seemed to do a number on him because he didn’t know peace until he had her out of it and bent over the closest piece of furniture.

He took her to a hike in the wood that afternoon – he insisted it was the easiest trail but it was _hell_ and she hated every second of it, beautiful landscapes be damned. She punished him for the awful outing by making him sit through _Love Actually_ and ignored his numerous complains.

He had her chanting his name in bliss well before Hugh Grant gave his iconic speech.

She was _definitely_ buying Aster a new couch.

He waited until she was asleep to sneak out of bed and out of the house that night.

The next evening, he took her out to the bar where he was supposed to meet his friends again. He tensed when she entwined their fingers on the way there and she was angry with herself for doing something so stupid. Those kind of things came naturally to her but he didn’t look like the holding hands type. She tried to step away but he squeezed her fingers, not really meeting her eyes, embarrassed maybe, and she loosely wrapped her other arm around his, huddling into his side and making their locked hands less noticeable.

His friends looked surprised to see her but they were welcoming enough – well, Annie and Finnick were welcoming, Johanna was Johanna and she had learned not to expect anything on that front. As for Chaff… Chaff was nice, his gibes were always a bit too incisive but she was starting to think it was a coping mechanism, just like Haymitch’s sarcasms were, and he was clearly on his best behavior.

However, she didn’t miss the way Chaff was watching them: the hand she kept returning to Haymitch’s thigh without really meaning to, the arm he passed around her shoulders without apparent thought, the way his nose would bump against the shell of her ear when he whispered something for her attention only…

A thousand little things she only got aware of because Chaff’s watching was putting them in focus for her. Habits they had developed over the past few days. Things that she would never normally have risked in public because it only took one picture to launch a rumor.

But it was The Seam… And people weren’t as nosy as they were in the city. She hadn’t been forced to deal with anything more than a few people politely telling her they liked her movies and she hadn’t really minded those because they hadn’t waved a phone in her face without even asking permission to take a picture.

She had lowered her guard. She hadn’t realized. And now she was hyper-aware of the way they were behaving, the obvious intimacy, the ease…

She didn’t think Haymitch noticed.

But Chaff looked wary by the end of the night, _very_ wary.

It made her uncomfortable. Not the scrutiny – she was used to the scrutiny – but the worry she could read on the man’s face, the glances he kept tossing Haymitch every time his attention was on her, every time he smiled at something she said, every time his thumb ran up and down the side of her neck…

Haymitch only did one-night-stands, Haymitch didn’t do complicated, and for good reasons. He had been hurt in the past and she didn’t want his heart to get broken again. She didn’t want to be the one who would hurt him.

Finnick and Annie left early and Effie jumped on the excuse to follow Johanna outside for a cigarette, needing some space to calm her suddenly frayed nerves. Chances were Chaff would talk to Haymitch about them. She knew that. She wasn’t sure it was such a bad thing.

“He saved my life.” Jo said, out of the blue.

Effie took a drag of the borrowed cigarette and didn’t answer, recognizing the vaguely threatening tone for what it was. A warning. _Don’t hurt my friend_.

What had she done?

_You’re too fucking brave for your own good. Brave people are stupid._

She had _never_ been brave. She was a coward. Always had been. She was pragmatic. She was selfish. She was ambitious. She was a lot of things but brave wasn’t one of them.

If she had been brave, she would have called her career quit long ago. She would have tried to get the degree in architecture she had always dreamed of. She would have showed her sketches to Portia and Cinna. She would have worn the outfits she had designed and sometimes sewed herself in public. She would have done a thousand different things she never allowed herself because of her image and the necessity to worry about what people would think of her.

She _wasn’t_ brave.

Haymitch stormed out of the bar, followed more calmly by Chaff. He looked angry or maybe a bit edgy when he handed her the purse she had left inside, not quite meeting her eyes. She had a lump in her throat when she said goodbye to his friends, certain she would never be seeing them again.

She finished her cigarette on the way to the cottage, not making a move to grab his hand or tuck herself into his side again.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” he mumbled after five minutes of utter silence.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” she reminded him – because maybe they _needed_ the reminder.

“You don’t say.” he sneered.

There was an odd tension between them. It wasn’t quite _anger_ but…

He kissed her as soon as she had let them in and it was frantic, _violent_ … Clothes flew off left and right. She buried her face in his neck when he pinned her up to the wall, automatically hopping to lock her legs around his waist. There was no real foreplay and it wasn’t as comfortable and good as it usually was but it still worked for her. She came fast but it was over before it really began, a pathetic little spark of an orgasm that frustrated her more than it freed her.

He didn’t sound any happier when he grunted his release.

They stood there, embracing against the wall, not really needing to catch their breath back because they hadn’t quite gotten there yet but _pretending_ they had.

It was a bit ridiculous.

“Take me to bed, Haymitch.” she whispered.

It sounded fragile to her own ears, _frail_.

He carried her up the stairs and to the bedroom and when he laid her down on the bed and covered her body with his, there was nothing frantic about it anymore. He rubbed himself back to hardness against her core, kissing her lips, her throat, her breasts… It felt like her skin was humming where he touched her, it felt like… She closed her eyes at some point because it was too much. Her hand found him and she stroke him to complete hardness before guiding him inside her.

He slid home but didn’t move. He propped himself on his left arm, his right hand finding hers on the pillow. He entwined their fingers and she shut her eyes harder.

“Look at me.” he requested and she shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip. She was a good actress but she wasn’t _that_ good of an actress that she could hide how she felt in that moment. She knew what this was. A _farewell_. Because they had slipped. Because they had _fucked_ _up_. Because he needed to get out of this before he got _hurt_. His mouth brushed against hers, prying her lips loose from her teeth. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

She did and, for a moment, the world stopped turning.

With him seated deep inside her.

With her heart thumping in her chest.

With his grey eyes staring straight into hers.

For a moment, a perfect everlasting second, she felt grounded. Lost and found. She _belonged_.

Then he moved his hips and the world shattered.

She was reminded of lying under a Christmas tree, of watching the fairy lights twinkle above her. Blinding and peaceful all at once.

It was over too soon.

“Stay.” she begged without really meaning to, unable to bear the prospect of loneliness after this.

 “Yeah.” he accepted immediately.

It should have made her happy because he hadn’t stayed a single night since that one time, but it made her sad instead because she knew why he was agreeing to it. She turned on her side, showing him her back, and let him spoon her. His forearm was pressed between her breasts, his hand coiled around her neck, his other arm under her head, one of his legs trapped between hers and the other hooked over her hip. A tangle of limbs. As close to each other as they could get.

Effie didn’t sleep.

There were things she wanted to say but she didn’t quite know how to word them.

He didn’t sleep either. She could feel his breath rolling on her neck, not quite steady enough for slumber.

She eventually drifted off sometime around dawn.

She was alone when she woke up but she hadn’t expected any differently.

She went for a run, she visited the bakery and tried to do some Christmas shopping. She kept busy. She forced herself not to check her phone all day but spectacularly failed. Every time it chimed, her heart missed a beat before hammering in her chest. And every time she was disappointed when she saw Portia’s name on the screen.

He didn’t call and he didn’t text.

She wasn’t surprised.

 


	5. Blue Christmas

The next day, she didn’t have enough energy to do anything. She pretended she might have a cold and treated herself to a day in, lounging on the couch in her pajamas, drinking tea and watching movies all day. Romantic comedies she usually loved made her furious with the characters.

It was only when she started sobbing at the end of _Breakfast At Tiffany’s_ that she realized perhaps Haymitch hadn’t been the only one who had been slipping. She caught herself flicking through the pictures on her phone, looking for the ones she had snapped when she had been with Haymitch and on which he always looked grumpy because her habits of taking random pictures all the time confused him and annoyed him all at once.

She cried ugly tears when she found one of them kissing next to the half-decorated tree. He had grabbed the phone and tossed it on the couch, claiming she should focus on him and not on taking pictures. It had made her laugh.

She had been so happy at that moment.

She _really_ wasn’t happy now.

She told herself it was a fluke, that it was simply a silly crush and that she felt lonely because of the holidays that would roll around in two days. She told herself she wasn’t stupid enough to do the very thing she had claimed she wouldn’t do. No one fell in love in fifteen days. _No one_.

She received a text from Portia just as she was brushing her teeth to go to bed, studying her red eyes in the mirror and calling herself stupid over and over again.

 **Portia** : _How is the sex vacation going?_

She didn’t feel like talking to her best friend about this. Portia would sympathize but she didn’t need sympathy. She needed to feel bad for a little while and, when she would wake up the next day, she would feel better. Effie had never been heartbroken for long. She always rebounded.

 **Me** : _I’ll tell you about it when I’m back. Going to bed._

**Portia:** _Go get him, tiger ;) ;) xo xo_

She almost flung the phone at the wall in frustration. She would feel better the next day, she repeated to herself as she climbed into bed. Whatever stupid thing she _thought_ she was feeling, it would be gone.

It _wasn’t_ gone.

It was worse even.

She stuck to her routine. A run, a cup of coffee, a shower…

She was restless all morning. Deeply unhappy. Everywhere she looked in the house, she remembered Haymitch doing something and it made her want to cry. Going out seemed like the most logical option.

She rethought that when she realized it was the twenty-third and people were busy with last minute shopping. Christmas was truly in the air now and it made The Seam look happy.

 _Effie_ wasn’t happy.

She was lonely and sad and she missed him.

She missed him so much, it _hurt_.

Which was _ridiculous_ , of course. She hadn’t known him more than two weeks. You couldn’t miss someone that much when you didn’t know them two weeks earlier.

She was so focused on her inner feelings that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. She collided with another woman on the other side of the street from the bakery, so hard that the woman almost fell down.

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry!” she exclaimed in dismay. “I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

“No harm done.” the woman replied, a bit annoyed but not any more than could be expected given the circumstances. She picked up the sign she had dropped with a wince. “Hazards of the job, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention either.”

Effie’s eyes darted from the _For Sale_ sign to the building it was meant for. “Is that a shop?”

It looked like a shop, at least.

“Are you interested to buy?” the woman asked hopefully. “It’s been on the market for _months_. I can get you a very good bargain… Do you want to take a look inside?”

Effie had no intentions to buy but she had also nothing else to do and she felt bad about having bumped into the woman so she nodded.

The main room was spacious, there was a carved wooden counter on one side, covered with dust, and some knocked down wooden mannequins scattered around. There was a smaller room at the back with more abandoned mannequins and big windows.

“It must have been the perfect light for a sewing workshop.” Effie hummed.

“There is an apartment upstairs. Let me show you.” the woman declared, leading her to a somehow hidden staircase at the right end of the room. “It needs remodeling, of course, but if you knock down some walls… It’s a gorgeous space…”

It could have been, Effie mused, with _a lot_ of work. As it was, all dusty and closed off, the apartment didn’t look inviting but she could see what the estate woman meant. Knock down the wall between the living-room and the kitchen, add a counter here and some floorboards there… It could have been an _awesome_ place.

“I am not really…” Effie awkwardly explained once they were back outside and the woman insisted on giving her a card.

“I know.” the real estate agent cut her off. “But I haven’t had a visit in forever for this one so… Take the card. Who knows, maybe you will change your mind and it will be a Christmas miracle for me.”

Effie chuckled and pocketed the card.

Then she went back to her wandering. She was standing in line at _Greasy Sae_ ’s, waiting to place her order to go, and mindlessly playing with her phone, feeling miserable, when she somehow stumbled on the picture of her and Haymitch kissing in front of the tree again.

She looked so happy on that picture, she had _been_ so happy…

So what if it was crazy and they hadn’t planned this? What if… What if it was worth exploring? What if _maybe_ …

Perhaps it was time to be brave, after all. What did she have to lose?

It was a split second decision and a quick internet search that brought her to his door. She was surprised to find he was leaving in the mostly abandoned suburb area. She hadn’t pictured him as a suburb man. It wasn’t really difficult to find the right house, she only had to follow the sounds of honking.

She rang the doorbell and turned around, clutching the white paper bag full of warm food and a bottle of white wine close to her chest. The street was so quiet it was eerie, almost as if there was no neighbor at all.

She didn’t have to wait long to hear the door being opened behind her and she took a deep breath. “I apologize for coming unannounced, I know what we said and I know that…” By the time she turned around, she realized her mistake. She didn’t have the right house. She _couldn’t_ have. Because standing in front of her wasn’t Haymitch but a child with blond hair styled into two French braids that fell over her shoulders, bright blue eyes and a kind smile. She couldn’t have been much more than eleven or twelve. “My apologies.” she said quickly. “I must have made a mistake.”

But the geese kept honking in the backyard and Google Earth never lied.

Suddenly, she remembered how vague he had always been about why he needed to get home every night, or at least to warn someone first, the speeches about people depending on him, how he had said you didn’t always choose to let people in…

Suddenly, everything made a lot of sense.

And if there was a child, there was a _mother_.

He had _claimed_ he had no one but… Wasn’t it what men always say?

“Are you _Effie Trinket_?” the girl asked with wide eyes.

“I… Yes, but…” she stammered, now in a hurry to  get out of there. She needed to flee. Get back to the cottage, pack her suitcases and run home, her tail between her legs. She would make it in time for her mother’s Christmas party, which would make Elindra happy and…

“Prim, who’s at the door?” another female voice asked from deeper inside the house.

Effie took a step back, not keen on finding herself face to face with _Haymitch’s wife_ , but she didn’t have time to go much further before she appeared at the door. Young, though. A teenager. Sixteen, perhaps a bit older, absolutely too young to be his… _whatever_.

Two daughters.

This one had long dark hair braided in a similar way to her sister’s and grey eyes that looked like Haymitch’s. She was also scowling hard. “What do you want?”

“It’s _Effie_ _Trinket_ , Katniss.” the blond one rebuked her, as if it was completely acceptable for her to ring random people’s doorbell. As if she was _Santa Claus_. The things fame got you out of…  

“Who?” the older one frowned, obviously confused.

“I made a mistake.” Effie repeated before it could go much further. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

“If that’s food you’ve got in that bag, you ain’t disturbing.” a familiar voice called out behind her and she briefly closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the girls looked very puzzled. The oldest was frowning deeper and the youngest looked excited by the whole affair, her blue eyes kept darting from her to the man behind her. Effie cleared her throat and turned around. Haymitch’s face was a blank mask. He was carrying his own grocery bags.

“I did not mean to intrude.” Effie said quietly. “I just… I thought perhaps we could talk but…” She glanced at the girls. “I see now that…”

“What’s going on here?” the oldest girl asked, sounding mistrustful and wary all at once. Perhaps putting two and two together.

She had _no idea_ how to get out of there so she did what she did best, she flashed the children a bright smile and put on an act. “I befriended your father and he was kind enough to recommend a few hiking trails I might like. I _do_ love outdoors activities, you know, and those are some _gorgeous_ landscapes you have here. Anyway… I wanted to ask some more questions about a particular hiking trail and…”

Haymitch snorted and it sounded mocking.

She shot him a brief glare, musing he should have helped her out, preferably _before_ the mother eventually showed up.

“Hiking.” the girl repeated, glancing at Haymitch, clearly lost. _Katniss,_ Effie thought, that was what the other had called her. And the youngest… _Prim_. “Since when are _you_ into hiking?”

“So _that_ ’s the part you’ve got trouble with?” Haymitch shot back, obviously amused.

“We’re not Haymitch’s kids.” Prim explained.

Effie breathed a sigh of relief that might have been a little too _frank_.

“You’re my kids.” he objected with open fondness. “I’m just not your dad. Now... We’re going in or we keep freezing our asses out there?”

He moved past her and to the door. The girls stepped aside to let him in, Katniss still looking confused by the whole thing.

“I should…” Effie said, half-heartedly, thinking offering him a way out might be a good idea.

“Get inside, sweetheart.” he more or less ordered.

So she did. It would have been a lie to claim she wasn’t dying with curiosity.

The house was untidy, _lived-in_ , but clean enough. She spotted the tail of a ginger cat scampering away as she followed Haymitch to the kitchen, the two girls walking close behind her, exchanging glances and shrugs she pretended not to see.

Haymitch behaved as if everything was completely normal, as if she was a regular visitor, which put them all on edge. It was only when she spotted the tremor in his fingers as he placed the perishable groceries in the fridge that she realized he was trying to handle the situation in the best way he could.

“So? _Hiking_?” Katniss insisted, when the silence stretched too long.

“Can’t you take a _fucking_ hint?” Haymitch sighed, shooting her an annoyed look.

“I’ll catch her up.” Prim offered cheekily, with a wink. The girl grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her away, presumably to the living-room.

“I am sorry.” Effie said, as soon as they were alone. “I did not think… I thought you lived alone. I would never have…”

“What did you come here for, then?” he cut her off.

“Because there are only a couple of days left and I do not want to waste them.” she breathed out. “I… I _missed_ you.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” he growled. “You missing me.”

“I know.” She placed the bag of food on the table and folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself a little. “I _know_. But…”

“ _But_ now you’re leaving in three days and it’s complicated.” he scorned. “And I _told_ you… I _fucking_ told you I didn’t do complicated…”

“Well, excuse me, it was not a cunning plan on my part!” she huffed. “I did not…”

“You promised you wouldn’t fall in…” He stopped himself short of saying the word and shook his head, slamming the door of the fridge shut. “I ain’t sure how a three days long goodbye’s gonna help this hurt less, sweetheart.”

She blinked away the burning pressure of tears and tried to stop her lips from wobbling. “We could call and visit each other… It is not like we have time consuming jobs at the moment…”

“You live on the other side of the country and, in case you didn’t notice, I’ve got two girls to take care of.” he sneered “Can’t fly to California on a whim. How’s _that_ gonna work?” He buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Long distance is good for _fuck buddies_ , Effie. Whatever _we_ are…”

He let his sentence trail off but she knew what he meant. Whatever they were, it went beyond that. It had been an instant connection. She was naïve but she had never been naïve enough to believe in love at first sight. Not until _now_.

And they were doomed.

 _Of course_ , they were doomed.

She looked down. “I do not want it to end like _this_ … Let’s have those last three days, Haymitch. Let’s… Let’s make the most of it. It will hurt either way.”

Teenagers were never discreet and that was a good thing because the stomping of feet alerted them to their arrival and Effie had enough time to collect herself and plant a bright smile on her lips.

“We’re hungry.” Katniss declared, eyeing her with open mistrust. She figured Prim had _caught her up_ , as she had worded it. “If you’re done with your girlfriend, can we eat?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to correct the girl on her manners but Haymitch simply pursed his lips with irritation and nodded to the cupboard. “Get plates.”

Given how much Haymitch tended to eat, she had ordered large portions but it was still a bit of a stretch for four people. Effie noticed how he made sure the girls both had full plates before helping himself to some – not enough to keep him from getting hungry later on, probably.

Dinner was tensed at first, _awkward_.

Haymitch didn’t seem to know how to act and she figured he had never had a woman over before. Prim was nice enough, after a few minutes of silence, she asked her about movies, other famous people and her house in Beverly Hills with genuine childlike curiosity. Effie answered her cheerfully, finding herself falling in love with the twelve years old. She was the kind of girl you couldn’t help but love, she suspected. Pretty, kind and with a golden heart.

“And how do you like _our_ house?” Katniss sneered, stabbing a piece of carrot with her fork.

“It’s not really our house anymore.” Prim countered softly before Effie could answer that their house – although she had only seen the kitchen – looked very nice. “We mostly live with Haymitch anyway. It’s not that important.”

“She still could have said before taking off and renting the cottage.” Katniss countered. “You shouldn’t be defending her like that, little duck. Without Haymitch…”

“Water under the bridge, Katniss.” Haymitch cut in, not too harsh but certainly firm enough. “We can talk about this until we’re blue in the face… Prim wants to have a relationship with her, it’s her right. You don’t want to, it’s fine too.”

Katniss glared, stood up and stormed out. Minutes later, a door was slammed upstairs.

Effie was confused but she didn’t quite dare ask with Prim right there.

Haymitch and Prim exchanged a look. The girl looked upset and Haymitch awkwardly patted her head. “Come on, sweetheart, she’ll calm down. You’re done with your secret santa stuff?”

Prim’s spirit lifted up a little as she told them all about the secret santa she and her friends had going on. Haymitch claimed Prim had the Christmas bug and they should get along splendidly given than they both like to slave him around to put up fairy lights and what not.

Katniss eventually ventured back down a little after they had moved to the living-room – that, in fact, looked like Santa’s house, which Effie approved whole heartedly. The teenager made no effort to be civil, she was outright hostile to Effie no matter how often her younger sister tried to mediate, and it was a relief when the girls eventually said goodnight and disappeared upstairs.

“Don’t mind Katniss.” Haymitch grumbled as he picked up the empty cups of hot cocoa they had shared – more because he wanted something to do than because he wanted to keep the house clean, he suspected. “She’s had it tough, it made her rough.”

“She is very protective of you.” she smiled, following him to the kitchen. “She loves you very much, it is plain as day.”

He grabbed the bottle of wine she had brought and that had remained untouched, uncorked it, and poured a generous amount in two glasses – not _wine glasses_ though.

“They’re Aster’s kids.” he said, leaning his back against the counter.

She perched herself on the kitchen table with a frown, her mind flashing back to the children on the pictures in the living-room and to the obviously unused room on the first floor. “Aster’s? But…”

“Told you we were old friends… Bit of a lie.” he shrugged. “I met Katniss first, not long after…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. The hand that was holding his glass was shaking. “Long story short, there was a mission gone to _shit_ … Chaff lost his hand, Finnick almost got blown up to smithereens, Jo… Jo was captured for a while, tortured almost out of her mind. And I… Well, you’ve seen the scar, yeah? They tried to gut me like a pig.” He placed a hand on the right side of his stomach. “It was a slaughter. Mostly kids. Really not…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I called it quit after that. We all did, really. I’ve seen bad stuff before but _this_ … There’s a point, you’ve gotta get out before it kills you or makes you a monster. Not sure I got out in time, truth be told.” He downed his glass and poured himself another. “Chaff and Jo were honorably discharged, Finnick and I retired. We didn’t want to… I used to live around here when I was a kid, they had nowhere to go really, so we planned on sticking together for a while. They never left, in the end.”

“How long ago was it?” she asked softly.

“Six or seven years going on a hundred?” he snorted and then waved that away. “There was a cave-in at the mine, a lot of miners died that day… Aster’s husband was amongst them. Prim was six, Katniss around eleven.”

She gasped, her heart breaking for the little girls in the pictures. “This is _awful_. The poor darlings…”

“Aster completely gave up.” he continued, lowering his voice with a glance at the kitchen’s door. In case one of the children wandered back down, she supposed. “Stopped going to work. Stopped taking care of them. The grief… It consumed her.”

“But the children…” Effie frowned. “If Prim was six…”

“Katniss stepped up.” he snorted bitterly. “Took care of her, of the house, of her mom… Money got short though. But Katniss… She’s a cunning girl. Resourceful. She tried to hunt in the woods and when it got too cold for that…” A smirk blossomed on his lips, genuine in its fondness. “That’s how I met her. I had just gotten the gaggle… Stupid kid had been sneaking around at night to steal some of the eggs, thought she was being all crafty by only taking half. Thought it was an animal at first, didn’t really bother checking. There’s only so long you can eat eggs, though… One night she tried to steal one of the geese…”

“An eleven years old faced with those beasts?” she exclaimed. She wasn’t an expert in birds but she knew geese had teeth and weren’t exactly the nicest animals…

“Yeah, got herself into more than she had bargained for.” he chuckled. “She was holding out alright with the birds, got a few bites for her troubles, but when I stepped out of the house… She got so scared I thought she would pee herself… Not that she acted like it… Pitiful little thing with an attitude… Took her inside to clean the wounds, got the whole story out of her eventually…”

“Poor thing.” she whispered. Eleven… Eleven was too young for that kind of burdens.

“Never really answered well to pity, that one.” he shrugged. “I tried to help where I could, had enough money to spare, but she wouldn’t take charity, only when Prim was in real need…” His face hardened. “I tried to talk to Aster. Many times. Couldn’t get through to her. I’ve seen it before in soldiers, you know… Depression like that? She can’t get the energy to care about anything anymore.”

“But her _daughters_ …” she argued.

“Yeah, I kinda made it worse, I guess.” he sighed. “Once she was sure I wasn’t some kind of pervert… I _stuck_ around. She _knew_ I would take care of the kids. Any fight she had left in her got snuffed out. It came to a point… I had to pay off her debts or they’d have been kicked out of their house… Katniss was getting into fights at school, stealing food in stores… It came to a breaking point so I told the girls… I told them to move in. They’ve been here close to four years now… Katniss kicked and screamed about it but I think she was relieved deep down. I ain’t perfect, far from that, but it’s better than what they had before.”

He stopped and took a sip of his second glass of wine.

If there had been any doubt before, she knew she was in trouble _now_ because when she looked at him, there was this _stirring_ in her chest…

“You saved those children.” she commented.

“ _They_ saved _me_.” he countered, lifting his glass in a parody of a toast. “I’ve got a hold on it now but I was on my way to living at the bottom of a bottle when I met them.”

She hopped off the table with determination and marched on him. There was a spark of confusion in his eyes but she didn’t let him second-guess. She kissed him. _Hard_. He seemed reluctant at first, worried perhaps that they would get caught by his children, but he gave in quickly enough. He pulled her closer, his hand roamed up her back to coil around her nape…

“I never met anyone like you.” she murmured.

“Probably best for you.” he scoffed self-depreciably. She shut him up with another kiss. She didn’t think it surprised either of them when it grew heated. He untucked her lilac blouse from her grey high-waist skirt, sought her skin, and she made a quick job of unbuttoning his shirt… He covered her hands with his, still a bit hesitant but clearly too far gone to let that stop him. He cupped her cheek, brushing her lips with his thumb. “You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, sweetheart…”

She nodded her assent and let him guide her to his bedroom. She didn’t really have time to look around but she could tell it was _messy_. Clothes on the floor, piles of books abandoned around, an unmade bed they fell on without second thought…

She tried to swallow back her giggles when his stubble tickled her stomach but she wasn’t that successful at it. He shot her a chiding look that she ignored, mostly because she was doing the best she could and also because she had more pressing concerns – like getting him _naked_. She was more efficient than he was and she forced him back a little to get rid of his pants. With her sitting on the bed and him standing up next to it, she was at the perfect height.

“I missed you.” she hummed, not quite sure if she was talking to him or to his penis and not quite sure what it said about her.

She didn’t really linger on the question, she took him in her mouth, prompting a groan from him. He cradled her head in his hands, not pushing or anything, just holding until he eventually pulled her back and shoved her. She flopped on her back, crawling up a little so they had room to play, letting him peel the heeled boots, the skirt and the tights from her legs. 

She sighed in relief when he entered her.

It might have only been a few days since the last time but it was a few days too long. She wanted to do it every day for the rest of her life. She wanted…

It was over too quickly.

Their bodies came together as if they had been made for that express purpose.

He wrapped his arm around her and rolled them over so she was lying on his chest, between his legs. He kicked and wriggled until he could get a hold on the blankets, his hand protectively spread under her shoulder blade, and he covered them both before they could feel the chill of the night. Then he locked his other arm around her, hugging her tight.

“You can’t stay.”

It was a statement and not a question.

“I know.” she answered. “It wouldn’t do for the girls to find me at the breakfast table. They would have questions.”

“Not what I meant.” he sighed. “Although, yeah. That too.”

“I know.” she whispered. She knew what he meant. This was the back end of Virginia and her life was in Beverly Hills. “I do not suppose you want to move?”

“I’m never leaving the girls.” he mumbled, a bit hostile, as if she should have known better.

“I meant the three of you.” she replied calmly.

He let out a deep breath. “I’ve got no rights on them, Effie. And Prim won’t leave Aster.” He scoffed. “And the fuck would I do in _California_?” 

“Raise seagulls?” she joked even if there was nothing funny to be found in the situation. She breathed out a sigh of her own and nuzzled his shoulder. “We could be so good, you and me… I _know_ it. We would argue all the time and get into fights every two days and we would swear we are done every week but we could be _so good_ …”

“In another life, maybe.” he snorted, trailing his fingers up and down her spine. “Would have been nice.”

“Yes.” she agreed. “It would have been.”

“Maybe you can stay longer…” he suggested, not quite believing it himself.

“Aster will be coming back the day after Christmas. I _do_ believe she will want her house back.” she pointed out.

“You could stay here.” he shrugged. “You could stay until New Year’s Eve..”

“And then until Easter?” she teased, shaking her head. “A clean cut would be better, wouldn’t it?”

“It _sure_ worked _fucking_ well last time.” he taunted right back, possessively squeezing her nape. “We’re _fucked_ , sweetheart. We’re _fucking fucked_. I can’t leave my kids to go with you and there’s nothing for you here.”

“I could visit.” she whispered but they had been over that and he had made it clear he wasn’t a long distance guy. And she understood his point. They were at an age when a steady relationship had to be… _steady_. “I should go before I fall asleep and we have to explain my presence to your girls.”

“I’m guessing they kinda figured it out, Princess.” he smirked. “Don’t really have ladies around…”

She planted a kiss on his mouth, letting him deepen it, and not resisting at all when it escalated into another round of slow but brutal lovemaking.

It felt odd to get dressed after that, under his watchful eyes, when all she wanted to do was climb back in bed with him, go to sleep and pretend they could do it for the rest of their lives. He grabbed sweatpants from a drawer and didn’t bother with a shirt as he walked her back downstairs to the front door.

“You want to borrow my pick-up?” he frowned when she realized she was on foot.

“No, I will walk.” she refused with a smile. “It is not that far.”

He looked uneasy. “It’s dark… I’ll walk you back. Just let me…”

“Haymitch, I will be fine.” she promised. “When was the last time something _dire_ even happened in this town?”

“It only takes once.” he grumbled, clearly not liking the idea of her getting home alone.

“I am a big girl.” she chuckled, pecking his lips one last time. “Will you come over tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” he relented, responding to her peck by deepening the kiss. “Text me when you’re home, okay? If I don’t get anything in thirty minutes, I’m coming after you.”

“Do not tempt me.” she teased, grinning hard.

He watched her from his porch until she reached the end of the street. The whole town seemed to be sleeping, a few snowflakes were falling and, even though they immediately melted as soon as they touched the ground, she quickened her pace. She fished her phone from her purse after a few minutes, making a few time zone calculations. She hesitated but Portia was always up until late in the night so she took her chance.

It rang so long Effie almost hung up.

 _“Effie!”_ Portia exclaimed, sounding delighted to hear from her. There was music in the background. Portia must have been at a party or another, then. _“You haven’t called or send a snap in a while… I was starting to get worried.”_ The white noise in the background gradually got lower and she figured Portia had found a quiet corner. _“Do you want me to pick you up at the airport on the twenty-sixth? I have so many things to tell you. You won’t believe everything that happened while you were away…”_

“I am in love.” Her words didn’t carry really far. It felt almost like a dream to walk in those snowy asleep streets, _unreal_ , and so she said it again, louder. “I am _in love_.”

Portia seemed taken aback. _“In love. Well… I must say when you said it was only for the holidays… You’ve never been one to go for casual, Effie. But_ in love _? It’s been…”_

“I know.” she cut her off.

 _“And he lives in_ Virginia _. That’s a hell of…”_ Portia unnecessarily insisted.

“I know.” she interrupted again.

 _“What does_ he _feel?”_ her friend asked. _“Is he being a jerk about it? Running for the hills?”_

“He feels the same, I think.” she answered. “We tried to find a solution but…” She briefly summed up the children situation and then shook her head. “It is just hopeless, isn’t it? He cannot come with me and I cannot stay, can I?”

Portia was silent for a long moment. _“What do you want me to say, darling?”_

“The truth.” she begged, tears in her voice, as the cottage came into view. “It is hopeless. There is no solution. I will leave him behind to go back to endless auditions that never work out, I will end up guest staring in _The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills_ , and I will die alone surrounded by a thousand cats. This is heartbreak in the making.”

 _“Oh, Effie…”_ her best friend breathed out with obvious compassion.

“I have to go.” she said suddenly. “I will text you the details of my flight.”

She hung up without waiting for her goodbyes, sent a quick message to Haymitch and hurried to get into bed, where she could hide under her pillow and pretend her life was easier.


	6. One Wish (For Christmas)

Haymitch showed up a little after noon the next day.

He looked as awful as she felt. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, he looked sad and a bit lost.

Neither of them said anything, she cupped his cheek but what she had intended as a show of tenderness turned into a messy kiss. They stumbled to the bedroom, bumping in every wall and piece of furniture along the way. For a while, she thought they would get stuck in the stairs and do it right there. The sex was frantic, desperate, and sloppy.

It left her unsatisfied and unhappy.

She snuggled against his side, still not quite sure what to say, not quite sure there _was_ anything to say.

After thirty minutes of doing nothing else than staring at the ceiling, he rolled on her and settled between her legs again.

She could feel his anger. He bit down on her neck, kneaded her breasts… His thrusts were powerful, _punishing_ almost, and they made her whimper even as she clawed as his back, met his hips so viciously it would leave bruises… He trapped her wrists over her head and touched, kissed and stroke her body until she could only wriggle, half mad with pleasure, desperate for some form of release…

It was as if he was furious with her for being _her_ , for _them_ happening, for…

“Come for me, sweetheart.” he muttered in her ear and she _did_. Just like that.

He was far from being finished. He lifted her legs higher, switched the angle… She had barely recovered from the first when her second orgasm hit. It left her on the brink of tears.

“ _Fuck_.” he grunted when he came. He buried his face in her neck, mumbling against her skin. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

She doubted he was talking about the _thing_ they had just done. 

She locked her legs around his back, preventing him from slipping away. She wanted to keep him there. On her. _In_ her. Where he _belonged_.

“Ask me to stay.” she pleaded. “Ask me…”

“Can’t.” he sighed, his fingers tightening around her wrists. “ _Can’t_.”

“Don’t you _want_ me to?” she protested.

“Don’t be _fucking_ stupid, of course, I want you to.” he sneered, letting go of her arms to prop himself on his elbows, making it a bit easier for her to breathe. She didn’t want to breathe more easily though. Not if it meant being parted from him. “And I’m _fucking_ selfish, Effie. Don’t tell me to ask you again ‘cause I will.”

“Why won’t you?” she sulked. “If your truly want me to…”

“’Cause it’s _crazy_.” he cut her off. “’Cause it’s been two weeks and The Seam’s the middle of nowhere and you’re a _fucking_ movie star… _I_ ain’t asking you to stay, sweetheart ‘cause one day you’re gonna look back and you’re gonna hate me for it.”

“A movie star…” she repeated bitterly. “I told you, I do not think…”

“I ain’t second best. ‘Cause I come with two girls and they can’t be second best either.” He leaned in to kiss her. It was a violent kiss and she wanted to die in it. “I want you. That’s not a question. _I want you_. So… You do what you have to do, you decide what you want, and if you wanna come back… I didn’t find a woman in twenty-five years I could… Before _you_ I…” He rolled his eyes. “Chances are, I ain’t going anywhere. That’s my point. I ain’t going anywhere. If you’re _sure_ you wanna come back… I’ll be here. But you _better_ be sure, Effie, ‘cause if you come back, I’m _never_ letting you go.”

What was she supposed to answer to _that_?

She framed his face in her hands and pulled him into a kiss.

They never made it out of bed that afternoon.

“I can’t stay the night.” he sighed around six. “It’s Christmas Eve. The kids…”

“I understand.” she smiled.

“You could come…” he hesitated.

“It is a family time, I do not want to intrude.” She waved that away. “Do not worry. I will be fine.”

“But you’re coming tomorrow.” he countered firmly. “We’re having a Christmas lunch. It’s small but everyone’s gonna be there.”

“I would be delighted.” she grinned.

He didn’t really manage to leave quickly. They didn’t seem to be able to say goodbye.

The house felt empty once he was gone and she was lonely. She settled on the couch with hot cocoa and Christmas movies. She glanced at the screen from time to time but mostly focused on the notepad on which she was absentmindedly sketching. A leather skirt and a red top, something casual that she couldn’t have worn in Beverly Hills without feeling underdressed but would have looked chic enough anywhere else. She sketched a nice cocktail dress after that. And then a shirt that she thought would have looked nice on Haymitch…

On a whim, she snapped pictures and sent them to Portia before she could lose her nerves. _I need your professional opinion_ , she texted her friend.

It was fifteen minutes before she got an answer, probably because Portia and Cinna were busy having a Christmas Eve date.

**Portia:** _Nice! Are they exclusives or are you modeling? Who’s the designer?_

She hesitated and then shrugged. In for a penny…

**Me:** _They are mine. I have more…_

Her phone chimed almost immediately.

**Cinna:** _Send them_

She spent half the night exchanging texts with them, sending them pictures of her favorite sketches. Cinna and Portia were honest, they vetoed some and gave honest criticisms. But they also praised her and told her she _definitely_ had some talent.

She felt good about herself when she went to bed that night.

But she didn’t feel as well when she woke up.

Knowing it was her last day in Virginia weighted heavily on her mind. She packed before going to Haymitch’s, knowing she might be back late – if at all – and she hated being rushed when she had to take a plane.

She arrived early at Haymitch’s house but not early enough to be the first. He was the one to open the door and directly went in for a kiss that he planted on her cheek at the last minute because Prim appeared behind him.

Finnick and Annie were already there and welcomed her with enthusiasm. She barely had time to take a sip from the drink Haymitch had poured her that Chaff and Johanna let themselves in, with a jolly laugh on his part and the preposterous claim that Santa had hit the wrong house the previous night. Both Haymitch and Katniss protested at the amount of presents he dropped on the living-room floor but Prim simply hugged him tight, whispering something in his ear nobody else could hear that made him smile more softly than she had seen him do so far.

Effie guessed Haymitch wasn’t the only one the children had saved from their dark thoughts.

Lunch was a merry affair, all the more so when Peeta showed up toward the end of the meal with dessert boxes. Prim exclaimed in a _hush hush_ voice that he and Katniss were – not really, according to her sister, but sort of, according to her and the rest of the world – dating. Effie was glad to hear that. Peeta was a really nice young man and he softened the girl’s harsh edges.

Time flew and she really had a good time. She might not have known them long but she loved those people. She loved their genuineness, the lack of ulterior motives that colored her own friends’ and family’s every move. She felt good amongst them. _Accepted_. They teased her as if they had known her forever, they made fun of Haymitch because he always seemed to covertly gravitate toward her, they laughed when she retorted something witty back to them…

It was a very pleasant day.

They had very few private moments but they stole kisses and brushed hands every time they could, when they managed to _accidentally_ find themselves in the kitchen at the same time…

It was quite late when the guests started to leave. Annie hugged her for a long time and made her promise to keep in touch – which she did with every intention of doing so. Johanna didn’t bother with a goodbye, too busy arguing with Finnick who gave her a parting wave from the other side of the room. Chaff, on the other hand, stopped in front of her. She was surprised by the hug – not so much by the playful pat on her ass.

“He’s a good man and he’s getting his heart broken over this.” he murmured in her ear. “Don’t let him hang too long. Put him out of his misery.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, he turned around and left after sharing a last hug with Prim. Effie stood there and watched him go, a bit stunned. Were they all _so_ _sure_ she had already made her choice? Was _Haymitch_? And _had_ she?

Well, she _was_ leaving, wasn’t she… It was a choice in itself. But _staying_? _Right_ _then_? It would have been…

“I’ll walk you back.” Haymitch said suddenly, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back.

“You don’t need to come home tonight.” Katniss grumbled from behind him, the tips of her ears crimson and very much not looking at him. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Thanks for the kind and _needed_ permission to sleep away.” he deadpanned with a roll of his eyes. He relaxed though and nudged her toward the front door.

She hugged Prim and exchanged a slightly warmer but still distant goodbye with Katniss before following him out, rebuking him for his manners.

He stopped next to his pick-up, clearly wavering.  “How are you gonna get to the airport tomorrow? We can take the car… I can drive you…”

“No.” She shook her head, without even having to think about it. The perspective of leaving him in the middle of an airport was too _movie like_ for her. It would be crowded and awkward. Chances were people would recognize her and snap pictures and he would get more than he had bargained for. “I already ordered a cab anyway. I would like it better if… I think it would be better if we say goodbye at the house.”

He shrugged but she could see the sadness under the apparent detachment.

This time, he didn’t flinch or move away when she slipped her hand in his.

“I do not want to go.” she admitted, as they were crossing the Square.

“Then, don’t.” he said in a hoarse voice, probably on the verge of breaking his own resolution and ask her to _stay_.

“It is not _that_ easy, is it?” she sighed. “I cannot just leave everything behind and…” She sighed again. “I was not looking for _this_ when I came here.” She squeezed his hand to emphasize her point. “I had stopped looking for this a _long_ time ago. To be honest, I did not think it even existed anymore. I thought it was just a movie trope.”

“Yeah.” he commented and left it at that.

Given past experiences, she had thought they would pounce on each other as soon as they reached the house but they were very tame. Too sad, perhaps, to really work their feelings out through sex. He built a fire while she poured them wine and they sat on the couch, watching the flames project dancing shadows on the walls. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she melted against his side, her head on his chest. She listened to the regular beats of his heart and she tried to remember every second of their time spent together because she never wanted to forget.

She didn’t touch her glass of wine. It remained in her hand, warming up to the contact of her skin. A tragic waste. Like everything else.

“I want to wish we never met.” he mumbled eventually. “But…”

“Yes.” she whispered. It was painful, _oh so painful_ , but the thought of _never_ having met him ? Of not knowing what it felt like to be treasured by his hands? Desired by his gaze? Kissed by his mouth? “How much would you freak out if I said…”

“Don’t.” he cut her off, wary. “I don’t need those words.” There was a pause and a hand briefly running in her hair. “Do you?”

“Not really, no.” she laughed through the lump in her throat.

She looked up and brushed her lips against his, her hand coming to rest on his cheek, her nails scratching the ever present stubble… When she drew back, he followed, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, showing her what he couldn’t quite say.

She straightened up, sliding her leg over his lap so she could kiss him properly. His hands shot to her waist but he didn’t seem as desperate to push her away as he had been in the beginning, his palms slid from her knees to under her dress, itching it up… She undid the zipper, still kissing him, and drew back long enough to lift her arms over her head. He pulled the dress off her and tossed it aside to drop kisses on her breasts, to nuzzle down a cup of her bra… She got rid of it without a second thought, working on the buttons of his shirt while he sucked on her erected nipples…

She let her hands roam on his torso, committing every detail to memory, eventually letting them trail down to his pants. He stopped playing with her when she unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, lifting his hips so she could get them off him. She took off her tights and her panties while she was at it, rejoicing in the feeling of naked skin against naked skin when she straddled him again.

“I want you.” he confessed in a murmur.

“You have me.” she answered, slowly but surely stroking him to full hardness.

“Do I?” he snorted and it sounded bitter.

She could almost taste the misery in his kiss. She wasn’t faring much better.

He touched her like he had never touched her before. Like she was a dream about to vanish, a faded fantasy that one should let go of…

Her body was on fire when she eventually guided him inside her but she also felt strangely empty at the thought that it was the last time. She stared at the Christmas tree and its twinkling white lights as she slowly rode him, pretending that if her eyes were burning, it was because of the prolonged effect of the lights, because she was blinded by them. And not by him.

His knuckles rasped against her cheekbone after a few minutes and she looked down to glimpse the same conflicted feelings shining in his gaze that she felt deep inside.

They made it last.

Dragged it out as long as possible to the point it was less about pleasure than about being _together_.

She was exhausted when she finally cried out, taken aback by the unexpected bliss she had wanted to keep at bay a bit longer. Every muscle in her body was sore. Her legs were cramping and she was trembling both in pleasure and because of the chill on her sweaty skin.

And just like that it was over.

Her climax triggered his and he came with a soft _“Effie”_ that was soon swallowed by a kiss.

She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that on the couch, still joined, embracing like there would be no tomorrow. And it would have been kinder if there _hadn’t_ been.

She wished for an endless night.

Unfortunately, the sun always rose in the end.

They watched the dawn breaking in from the couch. His hand coiled around her nape, as if to anchor her a little longer to the present moment.

“At what time is your flight?” he asked.

“One pm.” she whispered. “With the drive and the checkpoints… I leave at seven.”

In less than two hours.

He nodded but didn’t make a move to let her go.

She didn’t either.

She let the minutes trickle by until it was verging dangerously close to the designated hour.

Tearing herself from that couch and his arms was perhaps one of the hardest things she had done. She took a quick shower and got ready for a long flight. Designers jeans, a cashmere sweater, a high ponytail and the large sunglasses she hadn’t really been forced to use in The Seam… She looked in the mirror and there was _Effie Trinket_ , celebrity and former Hollywood star, staring back at her.

It had been good to be simply _Effie_ for a while.

He carried her suitcases downstairs, silent for the most part, answering in monosyllables when she asked pointless questions…

All too soon, the cab lined up in front of the cottage.

The driver put her luggage in the trunk, leaving them to stand in front of each other on the porch, at a loss for words.

She had been wrong earlier, tearing herself from his arms wasn’t one of the hardest things she had ever done. _This_ was.

“I guess this is goodbye.” she said, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably. 

“Don’t be a stranger.” he answered, his voice a bit rough.

She handed his cheek and he kissed it, drawing back a little before going for her lips. It was barely a peck and she could feel the driver’s curious stare, it would have been smarter to leave it at that. She couldn’t. Not if this was the last time. She grabbed the lapels of his coat before he could step back and she brought him down for a real kiss that left them both panting.

Her emotions were volatile at best and it took all she had for her not to break down.

“Goodbye.” she whispered. She turned around and climbed in the cab, forcing herself not to look back, forcing herself to keep herself together.

She took deep discreet breaths, pushing the sunglasses on her nose before the driver could get behind the wheel. She tried not to be rude or too obvious when the man asked her polite small talk questions like if she had enjoyed her stay. When he pulled out, she bit down on her nail to stop herself from saying something stupid like _Stop this car right now_.

In any movie she had starred in, it was the moment she would have taken a split decision, run out of the car and back into his arms…

She closed her eyes and let the tears fall.

They rolled down her cheeks in silence, fat drops of water that crashed on her pink trenchcoat, darkening the fabric.

 


	7. Santa Claus Is Definitely Here To Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Bloody Christmas!

It wasn’t long before the landscape started to change. Soon, The Seam disappeared behind her.

Her phone chimed an hour into the drive but it was simply Portia asking how she was doing. They exchanged a few texts, mostly empty reassurances on her part her best friend saw right through and confirmations of the time the plane was supposed to land at.

She was stopped five times in the airport before she even made it to the security check point.

_Back to business as usual._

She had plenty of time to spare so she found a quiet corner in a Starbucks. Her phone was low on battery but she couldn’t find a free plug anywhere. She had a voicemail from her manager and she listened to it without any real trepidation.

He had found her a closed audition for a leading role but they had all but promised it to Cashmere so he wasn’t really optimistic. He wanted to know if she had given more thoughts to the reality show because the network was pressuring for an answer.

Business as usual, _indeed_.

She tried not to stare too long at the background picture she had selected on a whim on Christmas Eve. It was the picture of she and Haymitch kissing in front of the tree. She had reasoned it was _Christmasy._ She had reasoned…

She was about to order herself a chocolate pastry to go with her coffee – diet be _damned_ – when her phone started ringing. She picked up without really checking and she regretted it as soon as she heard her mother’s voice. Now was _so_ not the time for that. 

“ _At last!”_ Elindra exclaimed. _“You never seem to answer your phone those days, Euphemia, and you never call back either. Where are your manners?”_

“Hello, Mother.” she sighed.

_“Why, it is_ heartwarming _how happy you are to hear from me.”_ her mother huffed. _“Never mind. I have great news. Lyssa seemed to think you were feeling a bit down about the lack of propositions lately… Now, I know you refused several times – and I still think it is stupid of you – but I pushed for you to get a guest starring role on my show. Regular appearances. You will play my sister.”_

“Sister.” she repeated, flabbergasted by that more than the rest. Her mother had never been known to respect her wishes after all. “Mother, how can I play your _sister_? We have a thirty years difference.”

Her purse was a mess and she really wanted a cigarette. She was only an occasional smoker and she hadn’t indulged over the holidays but if she couldn’t have a chocolate pastry, she would _damn_ well have a cigarette. She was certain the packet and her lighter was at the very bottom… She rummaged around.

_“Well, if you weren’t so stubborn about not getting plastic surgery…”_ Elindra mocked. _“What can I say, I look younger than my age. No need to take it this way, Euphemia. I just did you a favor after all… If you want to remain on the scene, you need to take any role you can get.”_

“I am not interested in playing in soap operas. I want _real_ roles, Mother. With _substance_.” She accidentally knocked off her purse from the small table and it clattered to the floor, spilling half his contents in the crowded Starbucks. She crouched and wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear, picking up everything in a hurry.  “I won’t get in front of a camera just to be _seen_.”

Once upon a time maybe, but not anymore.

_“Be reasonable.”_ her mother sighed. _“I know it is not what you dreamed of but what else are you going to do? Wallow all alone in your mansion? There is no backup plan, here, darling. You did not even graduate high-school…”_ Because she had been too busy shooting a movie _about_ high-school, on her mother’s command. _“There is nothing else out there for you.”_

Effie’s fingers closed on a crumpled piece of paper.

The real estate agent’s card.

Her heart started hammering in her chest. “You truly do not think I will ever star in a movie again?”

Her mother was a lot of things but, when it came to Hollywood, Elindra was as wise as it got. She had been playing that game longer than a lot of people and she was still there to tell the tale. She was everything Effie didn’t want to become: an old star who now played dumb roles and who had to get on a surgery table every two years to be able to compete with the newcomers. But she knew how the industry worked.

_“I think that ship has sailed, Euphemia._ ” her mother sighed, firm but regretful.

She tossed her purse back on the table and stared at the card pinned by two quivering fingers, feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous with the decision she was about to take. “Mother… I am not coming back.”

_“What are you talking about?”_ Elindra scoffed. _“What would you stay in Virginia for?”_

“Could you tell Father I will call him soon with questions about opening a business?” she asked.

“ _A business?”_ her mother repeated, astounded. _“In Virginia? What sort of business? Euphemia, this is madness… What are you…”_

“I have to go.” she cut her off. “I need to go back.”

She cut the call and flung the phone in her purse, ready to run.

Ready to go get her happy ending worth of a movie after all.

She rushed out of the Starbucks but it turned out it wasn’t _that_ easy to get off a flight. Her luggage was already registered and she had to talk to five people, complain, abuse her famous status and threaten to drag them through hell on social medias to get her suitcases back. By the time they agreed to that, the plane was gone with her belongings.

She tried to call Portia, to ask her to get her suitcases at the airport, but she barely had time to tap on the call app that her phone died. Apparently the numerous calls from her mother she had ignored while dealing with the airline company had been too much for her battery.

She tried to locate a place to charge it but it seemed the whole world was conspiring against her because she couldn’t find one and when she _finally_ convinced someone to give her their spot for a few minutes, she realized her charger was in her suitcase on its merry way to California.  

She was also short of cash and _obviously_ the only working ATM was at the very bottom of the airport.

Finding a cab that would take her back to The Seam was an almost impossible feast and she was ready to sit down and cry by the time someone actually accepted to take her – Effie Trinket was an impossible force when she wanted to be.

The drive felt endless.

She was almost bouncing on her seat in impatience, so much so that the driver kept tossing her odd glances. The only positive point of that ride was that the man had a charger and that she was able to plug her phone to the car long enough to warn Portia and to call the estate agent because it was the foundation on which her whole plan was standing. She tried to get in touch with Haymitch too but he didn’t pick up.

She decided it was better that way. Some things had to be done in person.

It was night when they drove into The Seam and Effie felt like she had spent her whole day traveling – which she sort of had. When the man asked where he should drop her off, she didn’t quite know what to answer so she gave him Haymitch’s address.

She tossed bills at him without counting, telling him to keep the change, and rushed to the door in a hurry, too aware she must have looked like a crazy woman. She patted her hair, tried to flatten the now messy ponytail, smoothed the creases off her trenchcoat… and she knocked.

She had to knock three times before the door opened.

It must have been later than she had thought because Katniss was wearing pajamas and she looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, my apologies…” she immediately exclaimed. “I did not meant to wake you…”

“It’s eleven thirty.” Katniss grumbled and then frowned. “What are you doing here?”

There were a thousand ways to answer that and only one that counted.

“Haymitch.” she said.

The girl studied her for a long moment and Effie tried to be subtle as she peered over her shoulder, hoping to see the man’s figure coming down the stairs and to the door.

“You’re back for good?” Katniss asked finally. “Or is it like… an extended vacation? ‘Cause he deserves better than that. He deserves…”

“He deserves everything and I want to give it to him.” she cut her off, a bit impatient. “May I come in?”

“He’s at the bar.” the girl shrugged. “He wasn’t in a great place. Chaff took him out.”

“Thank you.” she smiled, already turning around, ready to run to the bar if that was what it took. She doubled back and fished her phone out of her purse to hand it to the girl. “Could you plug this for me, please? My battery died and my suitcases…” She waved her own story away because it wasn’t important. Katniss took the phone and promised to take care of it. “Thank you. If my mother calls, do _not_ answer. But if Portia does, please pick up.”

She left after that last recommendation, hurrying in the direction of the only bar in town, huddling in her trenchcoat because she _definitely_ wasn’t dressed for that kind of weather. If the pavement hadn’t been so slippery she might  have run for it.

She barged in the bar with chattering teeth, chapped lips, a slightly runny nose, rosy stinging cheeks, and not looking as glamorous as she would have liked. People had grown used to seeing though so nobody really paid attention to her after some cursory inquisitive glances.

Her blue eyes shot straight to the usual table but it was empty…

“Effie.”

She turned around with a smile so wide it almost hurt.

He was sitting at the bar, next to Chaff. Both men looked disbelieving although Chaff slowly started to laugh. Haymitch didn’t seem to notice, he got off the stool, not quite steady on his feet, just like the night they had met, and walked toward her with an odd sort of caution, as if he wasn’t sure she was real.

“Effie.” he repeated, stopping short of touching her.

“I am opening a clothing store.” she informed him. “I just bought the building in front of the bakery. There is an apartment upstairs I intend to renovate. I will find something to rent in the meantime tomorrow…”

“You didn’t go.” he stated, awed.

“You _did_ advise me to give the town a chance.” she reminded him. “I have yet to regret it so I thought…” She shrugged, averting her eyes. “I do not want to leave, Haymitch. I do _not_ want to. But I _would_ like you to say something, _anything_ really, because I just did something _absolutely_ crazy, not that I am second guessing, and you are _awfully_ silent and…”

He framed her face in his hands and pulled her in a kiss.

A very public kiss that prompted other patrons to laugh, cheer and whistle.

She was vaguely aware of that but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

She was kissing him back and it felt like breathing again.

It felt like _home_.

Chaff’s laughter was the loudest and hard to ignore. He ordered a round for everyone to celebrate, not that Effie and Haymitch really paid him any attention, too busy kissing. Haymitch eventually dragged her outside and Chaff’s bark of a laughter followed them out. Clearly the man was having a blast. 

“And a _bloody_ merry Christmas!”  he shouted after them.

As far as Effie was concerned, it was the best _bloody_ merry Christmas of all.

And there would be plenty more to come.

**_ THE END  _ **

 


End file.
